Amor fati
by N. Silvutra Mayhem
Summary: Suzaku clenched his fists. "Britannia started the war," he growled. "They killed him. I will crush Britannia." / / Seven years ago, Kururugi Genbu fell to a different death. Role reversal, not Suzaku-centric AU.
1. Chapter 0

**A/N: **It's important to note that, despite the summary including 'role reversal', only one event is changed from canon - the circumstances around Genbu's death. Everything else is... well, I wouldn't call it accidental, but it's a result of how Lelouch and Suzaku's personalities have developed because those two are just so similar.

_Amor fati_, Latin, roughly means 'love of one's fate'. It's a term used to describe an attitude where a person sees everything happening in their lives as good, including suffering and loss.

__**—**_  
><em>

_**Amor fati  
><strong>_N. Silvutra Mayhem

_**0.**_

_**_**—**_**_

The sky was painted ashen from smoke, as if planes at battle could obscure the red pastel shades behind them; the lifeblood of a nation. In the distance, the sounds of incessant gunfire long became familiar – similar to the way one could get used to the clawing of an unhealed scab: both were done for nothing but to bring forth blood, and the longer they continued the harder things were to end. The longer it took before recuperation could finally begin.

Though the shrine sat high atop the mountain and far away from the main combat zones, the two boys sitting under the ornate _torii_ gate could never escape the reality. At their vantage point at the top of the long set of stairs, they could see too clearly the fight between man and machine, especially the overwhelming odds against their nation.

Japan was at war. And they were losing.

"_Damnit,_" one of the boys hissed, and clenched his fists when yet another wave of Japanese troops fell to the ground. His brown hair had once been neat; now twigs and leaves left it in disarray. "Father keeps sending out our people to fight Britannia! Why? Can't he see there's no use? Can't he just surrender?"

The other boy shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't want to."

"Lelouch, not you too."

"I'm just stating a possibility," Lelouch answered. He waved a thin arm to shoo away the insects that marked the start of dusk, and then turned twin intelligent, unnervingly purple eyes to his companion. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I—I'm going to talk to him."

"That'll work."

"It will." The words seemed to bring him courage, and his tone became firmer. "It has to. I'll make him see sense even if I—"

"Even if you have to kill him, Kururugi Suzaku?"

Suzaku flinched. He turned away from the stare and gripped the fabric of his trousers, feeling the coarse fibres weave under his skin.

Lelouch didn't notice. "Talking won't be any use. It's not just about surrendering the country; it's about surrendering the nation's pride."

"But—but he has to see sense... he has to..."

In the distance, the telltale rhythm of landspinner motors left echoes in their wake. Submachine fire followed, ruthlessly devouring lives and reducing homes to nothing but debris. Tanks painted with the Rising Sun became scrap metal in an instant.

The Knightmare Line had risen, and the people would fall.

Suzaku stood up, and when he spoke his words were resolute. "I'll talk to him tomorrow morning. It will work, it has to."

There were no words from his friend, who had closed his eyes and turned away.

* * *

><p><em>"The master is dead!"<em>

_"How can this_—_?"_

_"Where is the young master?"_

_"Asleep in his room. Thank goodness he is unharmed."_

_"Are there visible wounds?"_

_"No, no wounds."_

_"Cause of death?"_

_"Poison. Japanese wisteria. The killer has most likely left."_

_"So there are no clues. None at all."_

_"It could be anyone!"_

The sliding door opened, leaving nary a sound. They had been designed that way, built of the finest _washi_ paper and supported by a lattice of dark bamboo.

Yet when he ran for the woods, Suzaku wished they weren't so silent.

* * *

><p>They were forced to leave the shrine for safety, the three of them, when the city fell. It would take a while for the Prime Minister's death to be announced and for any changes to take effect, as Britannia had brutally cut all supply chains and means of contact when the war began.<p>

But the bodies, oh _god_ the bodies—

"Brother?" Nunally asked, the cute brunette tugging at Lelouch's inky black locks. "What's that strange smell?"

"Don't worry, Nunally. We're just passing a dumpster. Right, Suzaku?"

Even days after seeing Kururugi Genbu's pale body, and watching people swarm around it as they attempted to figure out what was wrong, he still couldn't forget.

So Suzaku didn't answer.

* * *

><p>They reached the port just as the sun began to rise. There were few people out and about, trying to gather what was left of their belongings; nothing that hadn't been expected. The war and Japan's subsequent surrender easily dampened the mood of the population.<p>

Nobody noticed the three children overlooking the sea.

"My father is dead."

It was the first time that the elder Kururugi's death had been mentioned.

"Are you going to get revenge?" asked Lelouch.

"The killer left nothing behind," Suzaku said, a resigned note in his tone. "I'll never find them."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I—I..."

Suzaku trailed off, and there was a pause as he tried to gather his thoughts.

"They wanted to bring peace, didn't they?" Nunally asked. She shifted, tightening her grip around her brother's neck. "The killer, I mean."

"They didn't have to kill my_ father!_" he snapped.

"Suzaku," Lelouch warned.

"Sorry, Nunally."

Nunally smiled. "Don't worry about it. You're upset."

"It's just..."

_Just what?_ Suzaku thought. Just that his father was dead? Just that they'd never share time together ever again?

The jumble of thoughts plaguing his mind phased into coherency, something in her words sparking into inspiration. Insurmountable fury rushed through him; his bones, his blood. His mind.

He clenched his fists.

"Britannia started the war," he growled. "They killed him.

"_I will crush Britannia._"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I'm trying to mature my writing a bit more, so feedback would be nice. Review? :)


	2. Chapter I

**A/N:** I forgot to mention that everyone speaks the same language. I don't have any reason to change it (other than it makes more sense logically, among other things) but it's like this in the anime so I'm sticking to that.

* * *

><p>The Japanese Liberation Front prided itself on the Rising Sun. Each base across the nation possessed at least one, and for its members it remained a sign of hope. A sign of change.<p>

Each base possessed a central chamber, each alike. Shiny linoleum flooring gave way to traditional _tatami_, and electronic sliding doors donned the mask of _shoji_. Though the Front had adopted modern Britannian fittings and technology simply because they were cheaper, more efficient and less suspicious to obtain, the central chamber would always remain close to their native Japanese roots.

As soon as the sliding door opened to admit him, the man felt the drastic shift in atmosphere immediately. He stiffened when he saw its occupants. Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe, all dark hair and the grace of someone ten years past their due, nodded stiffly in the man's direction, his men behind him following suit.

"Kururugi."

Suzaku nodded back, and Kusakabe turned back to the man on the raised dais. There would be no mistaking Toudou Kyoshiro, least of all the distinctive buzz cut and lean shape of his jaw. Toudou sat cross-legged, _katana_ neatly before him, and held the air of one who could remain in that stance forever.

"This ends our conversation, Colonel," Toudou said. Suzaku felt the slightest sense that he wasn't impressed—and a glance to Kusakabe's face showed a scowl.

"Very well." Kusakabe said. "But remember your name as Miracle Toudou no longer carries the weight it once had."

Toudou didn't respond, and Suzaku jumped aside the doorway when the men left the room. The door clicked shut and the façade of the Japanese room was complete.

Suzaku took the place Kusakabe stood in moments before, and found himself under a hawkish stare.

"You know why I have called you."

"Yes. It's about _Seiryu_, isn't it?"

Toudou nodded. Once. "It was your first mission outside of training, and you failed. It is because of you that the Front is lying low and waiting for the aftermath to cease."

"I apologise for my actions."

"Do you regret them?"

Suzaku hesitated. "...No."

"Murder without reason is only senseless killing."

"I _have_ a reason! I'm going to crush Britannia."

"That is a reason," Toudou agreed. "But it is not a goal."

Suzaku tensed, and clenched his teeth. He bowed his head; he would suppress the urge to defend himself.

"As punishment," Toudou said, "you will go to Shinjuku."

"Shinjuku, sir?"

"You will lie low with one of the local terrorist cells. You will not be authorised to wield any form of weaponry during your stay."

"But—"

"It has been seven years since you have been properly disciplined."

"Sensei—!"

"Until then, you will not be ready for the Kururugi title. Dismissed."

_**—**_

_**Amor fati  
><strong>_N. Silvutra Mayhem

_**I.**_

_**_**—**_**_

Silver steel. Polished glass windows. Pristine white concrete. Everything about the building screamed _Britannia_.

And Suzaku hated it.

The Viceroy's secret research facility was designed to be easily overlooked. None of the company workers above knew of its existence, only that their bosses had been tight enough with their pouches that no underground parking spaces were available due to concerns of foundation instability.

All a lie, of course. An elaborate lie, as the three basement levels were likely obtained through a combination of corporate corruption and blackmail.

The facility's downfall lay in the very secrecy they were shrouded within. Only one person knew every single member: the Viceroy. Not even Bartley knew, having passed the military-issue transport truck off as yet another of Prince Clovis's strange orders.

They almost made it out. The sirens and wailing alarms suggested otherwise.

"Can you drive?"

Suzaku glanced at his partner. He hadn't been around Kozuki Kallen for long, as she often returned to the Settlement on Ohgi's orders, and he already knew her spunk was as fierce as her blazing red hair.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Catch."

There was barely time to react – one moment there was nothing, the next a silver object was flying toward him. He caught it automatically: it was the key to the truck.

"What?"

She glared, blue eyes shadowed beneath her cap. "Drive, damnit!"

"But I thought—Nagata—"

"Does Nagata look here to you?" Kouzuki hissed back. She opened the passenger-side door. "Goddamnit, Kururugi, just get this thing the _fuck_ outta here!"

Suzaku nodded. The instant he jumped into the driver's seat and closed his door, he heard footsteps and shouting. He jammed the key into ignition and hit the pedal, only to go backward and slam into a series of surgical trolleys against the wall. The action had a fortunate consequence, the ruined equipment blocking off the doorway, and the smash created was nothing but satisfying.

There was something to be said about the way concrete echoed sound, after all.

He flipped the gearstick, and the steering wheel shuddered as the gears were changed. Nothing he hadn't expected, considering he'd helped pull the truck from the junkyard and watched while they filled the worst of the dents.

"Damn that Tamaki," Kozuki muttered. "He had to open his big mouth, didn't he?"

"At least we got the gas," he said distractedly. When he reached the first intersection, he came to a chilling conclusion.

"Which way?" he asked.

"What?"

"Which way do I go?"

Kozuki looked up and her eyes flickered across the road signs. "Turn right!"

It was fortunate that the roads were fairly empty, otherwise Suzaku's sudden right turn from the centre lane would have met repercussions far more disastrous than a few disgruntled horns.

"You said you could drive!" she accused once she straightened, clicking on her seatbelt.

Suzaku had no time to put on his own. "I can." _Motorbikes and Knightmares_. He'd just begun cars, but they weren't as hard as the Burai.

"So what's your problem?"

"I haven't been to Shinjuku before."

Kozuki groaned. "You're shitting me."

Suzaku couldn't come up with a response. He didn't need to, when they could hear several pairs of rotor blades slowly approaching them, and then an amplified voice:

"_This is a warning! Quietly give yourselves up!_"

Gunfire erupted from behind, splattering every which way. Suzaku lost control of the wheel as he instinctively felt the need to avoid them, but he knew that none of the shots had come close.

_The next attack won't miss_, he thought.

"_Give yourself up: the next attack won't miss!_"

"Keep driving!" Kozuki commanded, and ripped off her cap to reveal irritatingly Britannian looks. "I'll stop them!"

"I'll take the Glasgow!" Suzaku shouted back. "I can—"

"Listen," she said. "Just because you're from one of the Six Houses doesn't mean you're a royal in my books, Kururugi. Ohgi says you can't use weapons, Kyoto says you can't use weapons, so _I'm_ taking the Glasgow out."

Suzaku mirrored her scowl. He hadn't been planning to use his royalty card. Toudou's orders were Toudou's orders, though, and they had to be followed.

"Fine. But tell me how to get wherever we're going."

"You have a map."

"Like I can read and drive at the same time."

Kozuki growled. She ripped off her seatbelt to reach the map tucked behind the dash, and flattened it out with more force than necessary. Suzaku almost laughed from hysteria – neither knew where they were going, Britannia was after them, and they were the only ones on the getaway vehicle.

"Keep going along this road," she said, standing up to take off her jacket. They'd wasted enough time as it was. "There's a path into the subway networks on the left. Old Subway Line Six. Contact Ohgi when you're there, he'll pull extraction."

Suzaku nodded. She left, and the rear door opened moments later. He heard several explosions and the sound of what were undoubtedly downed aircraft. A wry smile twisted onto his face without effort – the Britannians deserved it. Now if only _he_ were in the Knightmare...

He froze.

Initially he'd been looking for street signs, to know when he needed to turn. But a moving blur on an overpass caught his eye – a moving blur that soon approached a roadblock and stopped to reveal a bike and its sidecar. And in the sidecar—

The person lowered their book and turned two vibrant purple eyes _right in his direction_.

Lelouch vi Britannia – for it could only be Lelouch, even under that stupid helmet and behind those clunky goggles – widened his eyes.

—and then Suzaku had to react when a Knightmare appeared, its semi-automatic assault rifle raised in his direction, and even as the windscreen exploded into a smattering of glass shards he slid off his seat and thanked the gods that he hadn't put his seatbelt on at all.

He turned left – there was a left turn, he remembered that – and awkwardly steered with one arm. He could feel blood trickling down it – ha, so he hadn't escaped unscathed after all – and then the sunlight streaming in all disappeared at once, and the ground became bumpy, and somehow, he knew he'd made it to the old subway lines.

Somehow, somehow, the Knightmare pilot thought he was dead. At least he hoped so, because he couldn't hear anything at all. Suzaku tried to sit up again without disturbing the pedals – sliding off the seat was definitely, _definitely_ easier than getting back up – but before he could do anything the front of the truck lurched forward. No matter how much he accelerated, it couldn't move at all.

When he saw what happened, he groaned.

Of all the luck, he had to drive into a crevasse?

Suzaku sighed, and reached for the radio in the jacket Kozuki left on her seat. There was nothing to it: he had to contact Ohgi Kaname.

* * *

><p>"Lelouch, do you want to become a company director or something?"<p>

"Of course not. Strange dreams will only serve to destroy yourself—"

"_Halt!_"

When he felt the bike slow and then stop, Lelouch glanced up from his book. It was easy to discover why; a line of blue and white barricades prevented them from continuing, and behind the barricades a few armed vehicles. One of the men raised an arm.

"You are prohibited to pass, by order of Viceroy Clovis."

"Aww, man," Rivalz grumbled. "This sucks. Nothing to it but to go the long way, I suppose... Lelouch?"

Lelouch's attention had been elsewhere. Specifically, the sound of retreating Knightmare VTOL jets, and the sight of the outdated Glasgow fighting the Purist Sutherland.

He couldn't help his eyes widening when he remembered the Viceroy's last announcement: the mourning of the forty-something Britannian soldiers valiantly sacrificing their lives to stop a terrorist attack.

Nothing about what the Glasgow was defending – the lone truck speeding down the highway.

"Let's go, Rivalz," he said. "We probably shouldn't stay any longer."

Rivalz had a small frown on his face when he replied, but whether it was from the gunfire or from Lelouch's distracted tone, it was hard to tell. "Yeah, I guess."

After one elegant three-point turn and they'd backtracked off the overpass – well out of earshot from the authorities – Rivalz groaned.

"We're going to be so late because of those police!"

"Not police," Lelouch said. "Stop here."

"Stop? Here?" Despite the incredulity in his tone, he did so and allowed Lelouch to jump out of the sidecar anyway. "What do you mean they're not the police?"

"When have police ever gotten access to Sutherlands?"

"You're not saying... wait, you _are_ saying it's the military, aren't you? Why would the military...?"

Lelouch didn't answer, sticking close to the edge of the tall building beside them despite its shadow stretching all the way to the other side of the road. He couldn't have been more thankful for the dark colours of his uniform as he found a position which gave him a clear view of the highway. Rivalz joined him moments later, evidently struck by curiosity. It was easy for them to see the second Sutherland's ambush as it cut across the front of the truck, and watch the truck swerve wildly to the left before entering a tunnel.

"That goes to the old subway lines, doesn't it?" asked Lelouch.

"Yeah." Rivalz whistled. "That Glasgow is _good_."

He had a point. For a Glasgow to be standing up to a Sutherland for so long, its pilot had to be exceptional. But yet...

"Its left Harken is stuck."

"Eh? How do you kno—"

They heard a hiss as the Glasgow ejected its left hand, before leaping off the side of the road. Rivalz sighed; his friend never gave him any answers.

Then said friend frowned. Rivalz blinked.

"What's wrong? I—_oh_."

'Oh' indeed. A G-1 Mobile Command Centre was travelling down the highway. On its side, a large emblem depicting the Royal Seal: it was a transport of the Empire. A large group of planes preceded it, as if acting as an entourage for a strange proceeding. The entire group was headed to the Shinjuku ghettos.

Rivalz voiced this aloud.

"Clovis is out of his mind," Lelouch said.

"You think?"

"There's no reason to send so much firepower into the ghettos unless..." His eyes widened. "Impossible."

"Unless what?"

"He's planning to destroy it."

"You're _joking_." Rivalz tore his eyes away to stare at Lelouch disbelievingly. He wasn't joking. "His Highness can't just destroy the ghetto—it's... it's..."

"Urban renewal."

"What?"

"That's the most likely excuse he'll use," Lelouch said. "It's fortunate he hasn't sent out the rest of the Sutherlands yet, though that is not necessarily a good thing."

Rivalz sighed. "You've figured it out, haven't you?"

"Most likely, yes."

"So? Tell."

"For a military presence to be necessary, the most likely explanation is that there are terrorists involved. That's why he's sending them to the ghetto, where the large terrorist population is hiding."

"Isn't that... normal?"

He was pretty sure that Lelouch tried to hide the flash appearing in his eyes at those words, but he knew better. Something about it pissed him off.

"Destroying any area, especially if it contains residents of the populace, will result in a decrease in economic growth and a productivity decline," said Lelouch. "Do you remember that truck, Rivalz? The one the Glasgow was defending?"

Rivalz nodded. "It's not like it's easy to forget."

"Why haven't they shot it directly? It is my theory that there is some precious cargo on board. Cargo the Viceroy is after."

"Couldn't they just... I don't know, announce it or something?"

"Have you heard any announcements at all? What if, theoretically, the precious cargo wasn't something to be seen? Something that would disinherit the Prince Clovis from his title?"

Rivalz stared blankly in Lelouch's direction, slack-jawed. "What—what... but—how...?"

Lelouch shrugged. He pulled out his phone and dialled a number.

"What are you doing?" Rivalz asked.

"Getting involved." He ignored the spluttered protests and lifted the device to his ear. "Hello? Ah, Marquess. This is L. I believe it's time I called in my favour."

* * *

><p>"<em>Where are you?<em>"

"Old Subway Line Six."

"_That's hella long, man,_" a new voice that definitely wasn't Ohgi's complained, distorted over the radio. Suzaku wracked his memory, coming up with the image of messy auburn hair. Tamaki Shinichiro. "_Whereabouts?_"

"Hold on, I'll check."

Suzaku put the transceiver to the side and flattened the map awkwardly with his good arm. The other one hurt like hell, but he was thankful that the cuts were all superficial despite the sheer amount of red stains pooled on his sleeve. There were no shards left behind which meant he could use the jacket Kozuki left behind to stop the bleeding without fear of making it worse. It wasn't the most sterile of options, but he hoped it was certainly better than leaving it alone.

He traced his path, then picked up the transceiver again. "Yeah, Line Six. Near the east side junction, maybe. I can hear trains close by."

"_Alright,_" Ohgi said. "_Stay there, we'll run retrieval._"

That was when he heard them: twin pairs of Sutherland landspinner rotors from behind him. He knew: Sutherlands still used the Glasgow's system of dual-rotor landspinners, where each landspinner consisted of the individually-powered main wheel and the smaller one hidden beside it.

In other words, the Sutherland that had shot at him decided they needed to check whether he remained alive.

Suzaku had moved to the back of the truck for both safety and privacy – he couldn't sit where there were glass shards lying around, and nobody could see him. He glanced around for something to use; he only had Kozuki's transceiver on hand.

A dreadful crushing sound made him freeze.

A blade tore through the truck's side, as if the quarter-inch steel walls were nothing but rice paper. He stepped back. His eyes were transfixed; he couldn't tear them away as the blade moved. A small part of him noted that the Sutherland didn't bother shooting – perhaps on orders, as the cargo they'd stolen was too precious to harm?

That was when he remembered the poison gas. That was when he accidentally moved backwards too far and felt the cold metal sphere press against his back, and felt the depression of some button. That was when the wall fell, giving the Sutherland a prime view of him and their cargo.

That was when he saw the assault rifle pointed directly at his heart, unmoving, and that was when he _sensed_ the sphere open behind him.

And he knew, with frightening clarity, that he was about to die.

That instant, something rose within him. Something gargantuan, an incredibly huge monolith spreading from his soul to every part of his body; to the tips of his fingers, to the edges of his toes. With it carried one single message; one single thought:

_I don't want to die_.

He saw the rifle falter and a hand hit his back – a small hand, splayed, slightly round. The hand of a female, someone like Kaguya. Someone like Nunally.

...Lelouch was still alive, wasn't he? If Lelouch could live, who was to say he could not? He still had to destroy Britannia—

_I see you have a reason to live._

"Who...?" he whispered.

_Yes... a reason for being._

Against all the instincts that told him to keep watching the Sutherland (—_because the Sutherland was a threat, because the Sutherland could kill him at the press of a button with rounds as large as his fist_—) he turned around. It was a girl in a white straightjacket, with startling amber eyes. Those eyes stared at him, unblinking, and he was reminded of a similar pair – only purple.

Then he realized, he should have realized earlier, that the girl was splayed half on the floor and half in the open sphere of poison gas.

—_Poison gas_—

_You want to continue, don't you?,_ the voice said again. The female voice. _If I give you strength, will you live?_

"You..."

_This is a contract. In return for power, you will grant a wish of mine._

He watched her lips curve into a smile—

—and then he could see nothing but a world of darkness; two planets suspended above one another.

_If you agree to this contract, you will live as a human but differ from other humans._

A bridge of white light connected the two, but somehow he knew on an unreachable primal level that neither planet would ever touch the other. No matter through what time, no matter through what plane, the two would always remain asymptotic to one another.

_A different source, a different time, a different life._

—They burst into light. Then there was white; nothing but white.

_The power of the King will make you isolated. If you are prepared for that..._

Suzaku returned to his senses; to that blessed (—_cursed_—) smile and that glint in her too-bright eyes. He still felt a rush through him, whether it be from adrenaline or some other power, carried by the wave of images relentlessly assaulting his mind. But he didn't regret it, because he knew... he knew...

He knew he would stay alive.

"_I accept your contract!_"

[][][][][]

**A/N:** If you're interested in more, review. Honestly, I'd be lying if I said they didn't make me excited and wanting to keep going. :D


	3. Chapter II

**A/N:** Thank you everyone for your reviews! It's definitely gotten me thinking of more ideas for this thing ^^

* * *

><p>"Ah, Marquess. This is L. I believe it is time I called in my favour."<p>

The first thought that went through Rivalz's mind, to his shame, was that Lelouch had some pretty big nerve to mess with a Marquess. And then it hit him: _Lelouch_ was calling in a favour from a _Marquess_. With the intention of getting involved with whatever terrorist business was happening under their noses.

Lelouch, he concluded, was an idiot. An idiot maybe too smart for his own good.

Still, Rivalz couldn't find it in him to leave. He could have just gone, easily, with the bike behind him. They were going to be late for their next period, weren't they? But yet... yet, Lelouch was his friend. His idiotic friend.

So he stayed to listen to whatever crazy idea Lelouch was planning on his end of the phone.

"I need a Knightmare – one which as Prince Clovis's IFF codes," Lelouch said. Then pause. "Does it matter what it's for? You only need to know that all your debts will be erased. If you can get me access within five minutes, I'll even hand over all the documents I possess detailing some of your rather... illicit activities."

Rivalz never claimed his fish impersonation to be a good one. He found himself doing it as he spluttered at the implications: Lelouch, his best friend, had _blackmail_ material. On a Marquess, the third highest noble rank outside of the Royal Family.

There was something so wrong about that. Rivalz felt something in his chest sink and roll over when he realized he didn't know Lelouch well at all.

"Yes... yes. Very well, I await your call."

—

_**Amor fati  
><strong>_N. Silvutra Mayhem

_**II.**_

—

"_I accept your contract!_"

Suzaku felt a rush. A rush of exhilaration, a wave of confidence swept within him, as if someone had been foolish enough to lock away a typhoon. Something prickled at his left eye, a thoughtful probing, and he had no doubts it had something to do with the power he received.

_Geass_, the whisper said.

The rush was replaced by cold fear when the Sutherland lifted its assault rifle. The weapon, ridiculously large and designed for destroying enemy Knightmares with rounds that could pierce through thick plates of steel, was nothing but overkill against flimsy flesh and blood. The probing magnified, countless invisible arrows stabbing at the surface and bringing pain. Unintelligible pain. With it, four words whispering in his mind.

"I..." Suzaku began. Fear gripped him again – then, he noted, a warmth bubbled from his eye amidst the pain, replacing the fear with foolish confidence. He took a deep breath before being swept by the winds, his voice saying words that weren't his own.

"I _will not die!_"

The next thing he knew he was pushed to the floor, and the Sutherland was shooting at him but only succeeding to turn the bullet-riddled truck to something akin to Swiss cheese, and then a green blur stumbled out of the truck and into the line of fire.

—_the girl_—

"You will not harm Kururugi-sama!" she cried.

Suzaku couldn't watch the bullets intended for him, but he couldn't look away. The armour-piercing rounds literally _ripped_ a hole in her stomach _and then there was blood_—

But she still kept crawling toward the Knightmare, leaving a crimson trail behind her. The Sutherland faltered, and that was enough time for the girl to reach its leg. She placed a small hand against the side, the action weak but her resolution strong.

"You will not harm... Kururugi... sama..."

There were no words to describe what happened next. One moment, the Sutherland was still. The next, it had fallen forward as the pilot lost control, an outstretched leg the only thing to stop it hitting the ground as automatic safety precautions overrode the system. With its gun down, the monstrosity looked as if it were kneeling in submission.

Suzaku made his way out cautiously thanking that the truck hadn't collapsed, its structurally superior design being remnants of its past life. He made his way to the girl, forcing down bile when he saw her state. No part of the frail form escaped the blood seeping from the gruesome wound: she was beyond saving.

He turned his attention to the Knightmare and hesitated. If it were a trap, then he would be defenceless. But the alternative – waiting for the pilot to recover and then being shot into a mess similar to the girl – looked no better, so he shook out his arms and began climbing the side.

Once, a lifetime ago, Asahina Shogo pulled a teenaged Suzaku aside and divulged what he knew about Knightmares both enemy and their own. Suzaku remembered grinning when Asahina adjusted his glasses (—he didn't have that scar back then, and looked so young—) and said there were ways to take enemy Sutherlands from their hands. It would be difficult, but possible.

The trick lay in the emergency cockpit ejection system. It had a little-known safety mechanism that enabled a pilot to open the hatch out in the field if outside events forced it to close. The reasoning behind its design went something along the lines of pilots stepping out to arrest their targets but unable to return, and no protest was made in terms of theft because it was impossible a Knightmare to be used without the key and its corresponding code.

Of course, if the key and the code were already inputted within the system, it was another story entirely.

When Suzaku reached the cockpit, he pulled himself into a semi-stable position between the head and the large crimson shoulderplate. Then he pulled out his pocketknife and began work on the key-like hole on the side. It didn't take long before he felt a click, and as there was a pneumatic hiss he prepared to both hide himself and jump, whichever option was better. But fortunately, the hatch opened without him being gunned down, and he carefully crawled above the cockpit to make his way to the opening.

He had been prepared for an ambush. There was no other explanation for how docile and unmoving the war machine was. But he never expected the pilot – a curvy female with silver hair he might have considered pretty in any other circumstance – to be blank-faced, staring and twitching in shock.

What had the amber-eyed girl done, just before she died?

Suzaku couldn't complain about his luck, though. So he awkwardly moved the pilot into a position where she could be attached to the cord, and carefully lowered her to the ground. Setting the cord to auto-retract, he took the seat and flicked a switch so the cockpit would close. The monitors flared into life, the key under the joystick glinting under their light.

Impossible. He'd actually done it; he'd stolen a Sutherland.

He took a brief moment to familiarize himself with the controls. The Sutherlands were similar enough to the Glasgow, being an upgrade, and the Burai he was accustomed to were simply modified versions of both. Most of the controls were known to him at once, the rest easily identified by the idiot-proof labelling and inbuilt help system.

Sutherlands, anti-Knightmare frames, were mass-produced with the intention of using every man as their pilot in the case of a widespread Knightmare war, after all.

He turned off his transmitting IFF signal and customised the settings to his own. He had work to do.

* * *

><p>Lelouch had received a reply within four minutes and twenty-one seconds, told by the Marquess to visit the ASEEC mobile base. In all honesty, Lelouch had expected the Marquess to pull in some favours of his own in getting one of the troops to hand over their Sutherlands.<p>

Not that he would be staring down a scientist who created the first seventh-generation Knightmare Frame in existence.

Beside him, Rivalz stared wide-eyed at the inside of the trailer. He'd refused to leave, insisting Lelouch get a ride on his bike to the base instead of catching a taxi, saying something along the lines of 'If you're going to be late, we might as well be late together'.

"Hmm..." the scientist muttered, pale eyes and pale hair hidden behind a pair of glinting lenses.

Lelouch decided to take the initiative. "You are Lord Lloyd Asplund?"

When the scientist hmmed again, the kind-faced woman gave a nudge a little too forceful to the man's side before turning a smile to her two guests. "He is, I'm afraid. I am Cécile, Cécile Croomy."

"Lelouch Lamperouge," he said. "This is my friend, Rivalz Cardemonde. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Cécile smiled slightly, but Lloyd cut in before she could speak. "Are you sure you're the new part?"

Lelouch blinked, just as Cécile discreetly nudged Asplund again, this time hard enough for a wince to show.

"Pardon his manners," she said. "We're aware that Lord Tessmoor recommended you, but..."

"But I can't just hand the Lancelot over!" Asplund moaned. "What if you break it?"

None of them noticed Rivalz slightly edging away.

"That's unlikely," Lelouch assured. "I have experience as a pilot in multiple frames, and it can't be as fragile as the Ganymede."

It were as if that single word made the skies open, and instantly smoothed relations between the four. Asplund lit up and called for Cécile to get 'the devicer' a flight suit, Rivalz was pushed to one side with an indignant squawk during the commotion as they entered new biological data into the computer's systems and Lelouch ended up standing awkwardly with a manual and a coat hanger in his hands, eyeing the outfit suspiciously.

"Do I really have to wear this?" he asked.

"It's about your safety," Cécile replied. She lifted the camera in her hands, obtained at some point in time. "When you're changed, we'll take your photo."

Lelouch pursed his lips. "I would appreciate it if nobody knew I was here."

"Aaah, but that's a problem," said Asplund, who had returned to collect measurements. "You see, we need to keep a record of all the devicers on system."

Lelouch paused. A problem indeed; he'd foolishly overlooked that detail in his calculations. He spent a few tediously long moments trying to find something to say, anything that could keep his identity secret for longer. He would stop Clovis finding out, and he would _not_ return to the Britannian Empire.

He started when he felt a kind hand on his shoulder, and found Cécile's kind smile.

"Don't worry, Lelouch," she told him. It was then he noticed the camera had been put away. "Lloyd's right, we do need to record everyone, but an image file for all of them will only use precious drive space so I guess we can make an exception."

"But—" Asplund began.

When Cécile kicked her boss in the shin and pulled him away, not before pointing Lelouch in the direction of a side room in which he could change, Lelouch knew. An extra photo would be nothing when considering the storage capacity of the modern era. She had seen his expression, and decided to bend the rules.

He once hated the human factor, he thought as he tried to dress and read the manual simultaneously. But now...

"Oi, Lelouch," he heard Rivalz mutter from outside the storage room. They were the first words he'd spoken since being ungratefully pushed away earlier. "I never knew the Ganymede was _that_ good."

Lelouch pulled on the last sleeve before closing the zipper. He flicked through the manual once more to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, then swung the door open. Rivalz, once leaning against it, flailed backwards and fell into the room.

"The Ganymede was the first Knightmare Frame built," Lelouch said.

"Huh, and the prez uses it to make pizza? More importantly," added Rivalz, once he'd gotten back up, "whoa! You look..."

"Ridiculous."

"No, no! You look like a knight!"

Lelouch looked down at himself. Sure, the white and gold maybe made him look knightly (—he was a _prince_ in hiding, he wasn't supposed to—) but all he could think about was how self-conscious he felt in the skin-tight uniform. It was worse than that gala where Milly made him wear tights before the entire student population!

(...No. Bad memories. He wouldn't think about that.)

A sudden female screech cut through his thoughts.

"_What do you mean Prince Clovis never gave us authorization to deploy?_"

"Ahaha," Asplund laughed, sheepishly. "What the Prince doesn't know won't hurt him. We _are_ Irregulars, after all. Besides, we need combat data or our sponsor will be most upset."

Cécile looked as if she was struggling with herself. "Did he give his authorization?"

"Of course, of course! You needn't worry."

His words did nothing to calm her, but he spotted Lelouch and all was forgotten. Asplund grinned, dangling the Knightmare's key in one hand.

"You're done!" Asplund exclaimed. "I guess I have to thank the Marquess, I'll be very interested in seeing how a Ganymede pilot handles my precious Lancelot. He's not easy, you know?"

Lelouch took the key as it was offered, exchanging it for the manual he still held.

"This is where we part," said Asplund. "Follow Miss Cécile if you will, she'll take you around to the Lancelot's holding bay."

* * *

><p>When Suzaku surfaced, as per Ohgi's directions via his transceiver, he felt chills at the sight of the Shinjuku ghetto. While it hadn't been as well-off as the Settlement, certainly, the dusty, dilapidated buildings were still places to live. They were still communities of people, trying to live their lives as best as they could in the little space Britannia allowed. There was oppression, but that oppression only brought what remained of the Japanese (—<em>Elevens<em>—) together.

Now nothing remained but corpses and blood, and the overwhelming pressure of desolation.

The terrorist cell he'd been assigned to were waiting in one of the better areas. Less destroyed. It had been a basketball court, the scratched, faded lines marked on the concrete hinting of times when there had been laughter and playful rivalry. Now several parts of the ground were ruined to the point where walking became impossible, and the buildings that once surrounded it like a protective nest were fallen and riddled with bullet holes. As he approached, he felt sick when he imagined the deaths in the one, single area.

Of course, in the bulky machine, the terrorist cell spotted him first. Until he activated the factsphere and zoomed in, they looked like nothing but a bunch of specks against ruin.

"I can't believe he got his hands on a Knightmare!" Tamaki hooted, jumping up and down.

"Ohgi," began Suzaku, as he switched the Sutherland to standby in order to save power and felt a shudder when the landspinners retracted. "What happened?"

Their leader ran a hand through curly black hair. His face was tired and worn, long lines that shouldn't have existed until a person passed their sixties. When he finally answered, he did so without getting up from the rubble.

"We're not sure," said Ohgi. "It seems the Viceroy ordered the destruction of the ghetto."

Suzaku could only reign in control long enough to turn off the speakers. Then he swore, colourful chains of garbled words bouncing off the cockpit's walls for no one but himself to hear. He suppressed the urge to smash his right display, the one showing the Viceroy's convoy, and clenched his fists instead.

He suddenly remembered the cuts riddled on his arm with surprising clarity. They didn't hurt – he could still pilot fine with them – but they should have been treated better.

The speakers were enabled again, and he started searching for a first-aid kit. Slim as the chance of finding one had been, considering the pilots themselves were often out of harm's way, there was one tucked under a flap behind the central display. Whoever had the Knightmare before him certainly was priviledged.

"Where's Kozuki?" he asked distractedly.

"Missing. She contacted us earlier, but she's too busy fighting."

Suzaku hissed, both at the news and the sting of antiseptic. "Try contacting her again. I'll go to her location."

Hesitation, filled with the shuffle of unwinding bandages.

"I can't let you," said Ohgi. "I was under strict instructions not to allow you access to any weaponry."

Suzaku scowled, and shot back, "Do you know why Toudou didn't let me?"

"...No."

"Because," he picked up the razor, "I was too good for him."

The sound of the bandage being cut echoed through the speakers like an ultimatum to his words. Suzaku didn't pause, packing away the first aid kit and then flexing his arm: it was good to go.

It occurred to him that Ohgi and the others were saying something, but he wasn't paying attention. He would show Toudou. He would show him.

There was a thump as his landspinners fell and he turned the Knightmare back on, and he began the activation sequence to return it to full form.

_**LANDSPINNER: STATUS/OK ; TONFA: STATUS/OK ; SLASH HARKEN: STATUS/OK ; ASSAULT RIFLE: STATUS/088 LOW ; **_

Low on rounds? That was fine, since the rest of the start-up check proceeded smoothly. He'd just have to avoid the assault rifle. Instinctively, he outstretched the Sutherland's legs and ducked forward to increase its aerodynamic output. He opened the throttle: three seconds.

_**LAUNCH: STATUS/OK.**_

The brakes were released, and he rushed toward the Viceroy's convoy.

Showtime.

* * *

><p>The Lancelot, the very first seventh generation Knightmare to hit the battlefield. Every action it made felt as if it were going at full power, though the motors used just under eight percent of the total energy source. Its sleek, flawless curves cut through the air as if the <em>air itself<em> moved, and it was highly responsive, moving forwards even at the slightest inclination. The quality of the liquid crystal displays were crisp, even without needing to activate the factspheres for a clearer view, and any display lag virtually didn't exist.

It was incredible.

It was too bad that, for Lelouch, it felt like he was trying to move in a vat of thick syrup. He could immediately see why a person would have trouble interfacing with the device, and why Asplund referred to the user as a 'part'. To use the Lancelot, one had to be _part_ of the machine. It was unlike its predecessors, who merely required button-presses and basic joystick handling to manoeuvere.

Basic handling would result in jerky movements; to pilot it correctly, one needed two things. They had to be fluid to move _with_ the machine, possessing the ability to synchronise in a way that they could understand how every change in the cockpit would make it react. They also had to be physically strong enough to last the endurance the machine was designed for.

Truly, the Lancelot was not designed for the common man.

Lelouch lacked in the strength department. Severely. But his over competent capabilities in understanding were more than enough to compensate. The gap between the six and seventh generations was extreme; did it matter if he could only achieve part of the seventh generation's capabilities at the time?

"Very good, very good! This preliminary data is wonderful!" Asplund exclaimed, once the Lancelot cleared a lap around the trailer. "Now, go fight someone!"

Lelouch sighed and looked down at the IFF display. Yes, the Marquess had done well, getting him a Knightmare with the IFF signals he needed. Except, since he sat on the front lines in person and was expected to act, he'd relinquished his potential position as a commander to be a soldier. The Marquess had done _too_ well, especially to get him access to a seventh generation prototype.

Lelouch made a note to blackmail someone in the lower nobility next time.

Then, without warning, he saw a barrage of LOST signs. The surrounding troops moved in to replace them easily, but just as Lelouch reached the conclusion that whatever threat at that location was visible, those troops fell as well.

He frowned. Ignoring Asplund's demands, he sent the two Harkens on his wrist to an open multi-storey carpark nearby and retracted them, hoisting himself onto a floor high enough to see the battlefield. It was to his surprise when the enemy turned out to be a single Purist Sutherland attempting to defend the Glasgow from earlier.

Lelouch snorted at the irony, remembering the previous battle. Then he froze; he _saw_.

The Sutherland was incredible. Though many in the military tried to deny it, Purist Sutherlands possessed exactly the same capabilities as a normal Sutherland. And Lelouch watched as the Sutherland fighting there, a Sutherland like any other, simultaneously plunge a tonfa into the stomach of one sneaking up from behind whilst taking out two more with either Harken. Its pilot knew that in such a crowded battlefield it was better to cripple and force ejections as the crippled Sutherlands were no better than dead – those who could not eject were caught up in the crossfire of bullets haphazardly aimed at the Purist Sutherland; bullets it didn't try to avoid.

Then he didn't know how he noticed it, but he did: the Sutherland's decreased movements meant the damage from the anti-Knightmare rounds were actively affecting the pilot's control. The decreased movements meant more bullets were going where they were intended to go. The cockpit.

And then everything went to hell.

Suddenly, abruptly, in a ridiculous display of nonsense, the Purist Sutherland and the Glasgow were left alone as every single Sutherland in the field turned on one another. Bullets were aimed at comrades, Slash Harkens were flying every which way, and... and it was nothing but _chaos_.

Lelouch started as _all_ his screens were replaced by Asplund's annoyed face. That was when he realized he'd been ignoring every word said from the ASEEC mobile base. The Earl's hijacking meant he was desperate.

"Go! Go! Fight!" Asplund crowed, "Get me that data!"

"Sorry, sir, just scouting," Lelouch replied in his most demure tone. Then he jumped off the edge. "You might want to give me those screens back before I crash."

Asplund's face disappeared with a high-pitched shriek as the man feared for his Lancelot's survival, but Lelouch landed without problem. He winced a bit as the impact transferred from the Lancelot's surface to himself, wishing he were just a little more fit, but forced the machine to enter the fray.

Yes, he thought as he worked to disable all of the crazy Sutherlands. The Lancelot was superb. Several enemies were taken out at once using all four Slash Harkens, controlled using miniature joysticks for the four fingers on his left hand. Attacks that were too nasty were deflected with the Blaze Luminous system, activated with the press of his right thumb. The entire time he covered ground with the grip-controlled propulsion systems, configured in an instant so only the right controller was needed for their activation and steering.

Briefly, he entertained the idea that he probably wasn't using the Lancelot the way it was intended, relying on its components more than its capability for powerful physical attacks – and as a consequence, fighting as aesthetically as a scarecrow on wheels. It wasn't his fault; just lifting an arm tore at his own arm muscles, muscles that hadn't hurt so much since they relocated _everything_ in Ashford's old storeroom to the one across campus.

Then, almost as quickly as the chaos had started, all the Sutherlands stopped. Lelouch took the opportunity to take out two more, and frowned. The mess had lasted forty seconds; exactly forty seconds. It was too perfect, too timed...

Asplund's face appeared on-screen again, and there may have been a grim undertone hiding beneath his delight.

"The G-1 base issued a withdrawal order, and I'm afraid you're included," he said. "Thanks for all the data~!"

"What happened?" Lelouch asked.

The cheer was gone, to be replaced by narrowed eyes and a pursed frown. "Well, there was a coup d'état."

"A coup d'état?"

"It seems so. Looks like this whole scheme was some convoluted plan made by General Bartley; Prince Clovis is dead."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Yes. L was a reference to Death Note. So is the forty second thing. (It was going to be thirty, but then I thought: hey, why not?) There's a lot of irony in this fic; Suzaku's Geass is a key example of this, the "Power to Live On". You'll learn its full specifications later.

Please review? :)


	4. Chapter III

**A/N:** Thank you so, _so_, _**so**_ much for the reviews. These once-a-day chapters are all because of you... but this has only been possible because it's the holidays, and you're so cool I haven't studied for the next three weeks of exams. So expect a delay.

Also, hello to the two people who read this from a Finnish IP! \(^O^)/ ~ Drop a review sometime? ;)

* * *

><p>When Lelouch returned to the base, he found a dark mood had fallen since his departure. It was under that mood as he changed out of the flight suit and back into his uniform, reminding himself never to wear one <em>ever<em> again. A check of the time told him the last period of classes had ended, not that there was anything to miss, if at all.

"You know," Asplund drawled, as Cécile took the flight suit into her hands. "The funniest thing is that he claims to have forgotten everything."

"Who?" asked Lelouch. "Bartley?"

"Of course. The surveillance images showed that every man on deck raised weapons against the prince all simultaneously, but Bartley got there first."

"Was there a signal?"

Asplund shrugged. "Who knows? All Prince Clovis said was to shoot the enemy Sutherland down."

"And then Bartley called a retreat of all forces."

"Yup. How'd you know?"

"You said the withdraw order came from the G-1."

"Now I did, didn't I?" Asplund hummed, rolling his feet from the tips of his toes to the balls.

"Could I ask when they acted?" said Lelouch.

"O-ho? I said, when Prince Clovis—"

"Was it when the other troops turned against each other?"

"Just about, I guess. You think it's related?"

"Maybe," Lelouch dodged, though he did. Such timing did not occur naturally.

Once Lelouch and Rivalz stepped out of the trailer, Asplund leant against the side of the doorway and gave a _hmm_ comparable to the cat that caught the canary. Rivalz ignored him, but Lelouch looked back. This turned out to be the cue Asplund was looking for.

"The coup might have worked, if you think about it," he said.

"If it was any country other than Britannia," Lelouch retorted easily.

Asplund clapped. "True, true! It's only a matter of time until Bartley is apprehended – the poor fool wouldn't be able to go anywhere without a bounty on his head at this rate – and a new Viceroy steps in." He leant closer and lowered his voice. "There are three to one odds it's going to be Cornelia, interested?"

"No, thank you. I don't bet on the royal family."

"I haven't heard that answer before."

Lelouch shrugged. "Thank you for your time."

"No problem~! Come back anytime you want, devicer!"

—

_**Amor fati  
><strong>_N. Silvutra Mayhem

_**III.**_

—

Kallen hated returning to Ashford Academy. Its manicured lawns, flawless architecture, white brick walls and its expensive slate slabs tiled elegantly across the courtyards. Its large, decorative hallways, arched windows, ridiculous uniform... she hated all of it.

It was too Britannian.

Fortunately, being the daughter of a nobleman who had a far greater rank than the disgraced Ashfords, she was allowed to skip classes so long as she didn't shame the family. In other words, keeping her grades intact. She couldn't help but think that Lord Stadtfield probably felt sorry for being her father, but she didn't care. She wouldn't care about that man who left her for no reason except being half-_Eleven_.

Her fingers twitched for the pouch she kept in her pocket. The innocuous, pink pouch, carrying the most trusted switchblade in her possession. Every single time she thought about it, the difference in social class, she wanted to grab the nearest Britannian and throttle their throats. Except most of the time the closest Britannians were her (Kallen _Stadtfield's_) friends, friends who did nothing wrong except talk about the latest fashion trends and gossip about whoever had asked whom out for a date whichever weekend.

They were innocent. They didn't do anything wrong except know her. Her; a freedom fighter. They shouldn't have known her, and yet...

Yet they did.

Kallen glanced down at the slip of directions in her hand, comparing the surroundings to the hastily-drawn map on the side. The Equestrian Club to the right, with horses guided masterfully across the greens, and the main campus to the left, filled with mindless chatter that unified into a single drone.

The Student Council Clubhouse; this was it.

She was about to knock, then stopped when she would probably hammer in the door. It wasn't Kallen _Kozuki_ knocking, it was sick, frail, can't-fight-to-save-her-life Kallen _Stadtfield_. So she took a deep breath, squished down every single rebellious spark she possessed, and rapped it gently.

"Hello?"

When she jumped at the voice behind her, she wasn't acting. She didn't know what she expected, but it wasn't the young man with soft, dark hair and the most infuriating, assertive posture that _screamed _of Britannia's influence. Suppressing the urge to drop kick that stick-thin figure (—if only there were a wind, that'd be good—), she gave _Stadtfield's_ mild smile.

"Um, I was asked to come to the Student Council...?" she said, uncertainly.

"That's strange," he replied. "I wasn't aware there were any meetings going on."

He didn't wait for an answer, moving around her. That was when she noticed the shopping bags in his hands, and the slight struggle it took for him to transfer them to one hand and open the door with the other.

Bah, weakling.

The inside of the building was like the rest of the school; high ceilings, countless windows, and elaborate wallpaper plastered against the side. He led her to another room and gestured for her to enter first.

The first thing she saw was a busty blonde woman sitting on the large oaken table in the centre of the room.

"—and you have to remember to dust each book this time, not just running that thing along the shelves!"

"Yes, yes."

The poor target of her words, a lanky young man with cheerful eyes standing above a stool, balanced gingerly on his toes as he tried to reach the top of the ceiling-high bookshelves. In his hands was the largest, fluffiest feather duster Kallen had ever seen.

Her escort walked to the table, lifting the shopping bags to draw the blonde's attention.

"Milly," he began, "your supplies."

Milly hopped off the table, and then snatched the bags from his hands. They soon occupied the space she just vacated.

"Thanks, Lulu." She turned to Kallen. "Who's this?"

Kallen inclined her head. "I'm Kallen Stadtfield... I was asked to come here?"

"Kallen?" For a moment, Kallen wondered if she'd gone to the wrong place, but then Milly beamed and extended a hand. "Oh, that's right. I'm Milly, Milly Ashford."

"And the prez," the lanky boy added, leaning back with the duster and wiggling it about. "If you're not careful, she'll—"

He stopped in a series of violent sneezes, as his nose disagreed with the dust motes released into the air.

"That's Rivalz Cardemonde," Milly said. "The dark young man that led you here is Lelouch Lamperouge."

Lelouch lifted a hand. "Hello, Miss Stadtfield."

"Please, call me Kallen."

It was then a mop of strawberry-blonde hair appeared from under the far edge of the desk. The girl jumped up and placed a half-empty jar of marbles on the table, then dusted herself off.

"I'm Shirley Fenette," she greeted, smiling. Then she pointed to the side of the room, where a girl was meticulously tapping away on a computer. "That's Nina Einstein."

Kallen flushed inwardly, having thought Nina's unmoving head had been part of the wall. She covered it with a soft smile in return. "It's nice to meet you all. But, um, why am I here?"

All heads turned to Milly. The blonde's grin never faltered. "All students at Ashford have to be part of a club, but because your illness excludes you from a lot of groups, you ended up joining ours!"

"I—I did?"

"Yep. From now on, Kallen Stadtfield, consider yourself a part of the Student Council."

* * *

><p>"<em>Student Council? That's great.<em>"

"I'm glad _you_ think so," Kallen muttered sourly.

She shifted into a slightly more comfortable position against the balcony's railing, turning her back on the lush green courtyards and lazily dipped her head back to watch the cloudless blue sky.

"_Still,_" Ohgi added. "_It's a great opportunity._"

"Yeah, well, feels like more imprisonment for me."

"_Just relax for a while. You need it after the scare you gave us yesterday._"

Yesterday. She remembered yesterday. They'd tried to steal the container of poison gas, and she ended up being surrounded by the military. At some point she'd blacked out – unharmed, luckily – and when she woke up again, she was back at base camp and told she was saved by Kururugi. Unfortunately, they'd lost the truck, her Glasgow, and the Sutherland that Kururugi had been using. To top it off, the poison gas turned out to be a fraud.

Even so, they were fortunate enough that a withdraw order had been called. Otherwise things would have been much worse.

"About yesterday," she said, "what happened?"

"_You know as much as I do. We'll have to wait for an official statement._"

"Official?" she scoffed.

"_Well, even if they're misleading most of the time, at least we'll somewhat know._"

Kallen sighed. Then a sense of time hit her and she looked back down at the building.

"Right," she said. "I should be going. When can I see you guys again?"

She heard Ohgi exhale from the other end, the distorted sound of his breath rattling from the speaker. "_Stay for at least the next three days. We'll finish moving by then._"

"I'll help you—"

"_Stay, Kallen. Just... calm down and leave this to us, okay?_"

"But I—"

"_It's what Naoto would have wanted._"

Kallen hung up. She hated it when he pulled that card, using her love for her brother against her. But she knew she wouldn't have agreed if Ohgi enjoyed using it; both of them disliked the manipulation. Briefly, she took a few moments to compose herself to a point where she didn't want to smash the pot plants beside the window, and felt the transition between Kozuki and Stadtfield settle in.

She entered the building again and sighed. Three days. Only three days. She could do it, right?

The nails digging into her palms said no.

"I don't get why you involved yourself in the Shinjuku mess anyway."

Kallen froze. She reached into a pocket for her switchblade, and slowly turned around—

—to see an empty balcony behind her, with nobody in sight.

"You could have gotten killed!" the voice exclaimed. "Or worse!"

The words were coming from the room beside her. She searched her memory; she knew that voice, who was it...

"That doesn't matter."

"God _damn_ it does matter, Lelouch!"

_Lelouch._ The Student Council. Which meant the other one must have belonged to Rivalz Cardemonde.

"Then you should just forget it," replied Lelouch.

"How could I forget my best friend _blackmailing_ a Marquess and piloting a _seventh-generation Knightmare?_"

"Lower your voice, Rivalz," Lelouch warned.

"Fine," Rivalz said, gruffly, but did speak at a more reasonable level. "I'm your friend, Lelouch. Isn't that why you told me everything?"

Pause.

"Geez. Whatever. I'll keep it secret, but I won't forget. You got that?"

Pause. Then, so soft she nearly missed it: "Thank you."

"Sure, I guess." The tone was sheepish, mixed with something deeper. "Anyway, what did you think Clovis's death was all about?"

Kallen held her breath, and her eyes widened. Impossible – the Viceroy was dead?

"Bartley? Who knows what that man was thinking. Maybe it was part of his plan."

"Huh. Ridiculously complex plan to me."

There was another pause, far longer this time, filled with the sound of water being turned on and off and an endless scraping. Potatoes, maybe?

She was about to leave when they spoke again.

"Rivalz, what do you think about the world?" asked Lelouch.

"Eh? Uh, that's an awfully broad question."

"The Area system, then. Britannia's conquests."

"I... I don't know. Why do you ask?"

Lelouch hesitated, and she knew it was hesitation because she could hear the sound of his breath as he took in a gasp. It was too loud as he breached the taboo topic – rarely did a person mention the Numbers in relation to Britannia's rule, and only to mock how easily they had been swept under the royal blue banner.

He finally answered, his words soft. "I want to liberate Japan."

The message was there, its intentions sincere. Kallen... Kallen was dumbstruck. Of all the things she would be listening in to, at a Britannian school, from the mouth of a Britannian to another...

To Rivalz's credit, he didn't raise a huge fuss. But there was still that pause of shocked silence.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"To fulfill a dead friend's dream," he replied. "From there I will build a world where every man, woman and child can live in peace."

Fearlessly, Lelouch's voice returned to its usual level.

"Will you join my journey, Rivalz? You who your father was violent and never sober, losing his life to alcohol poisoning when you were thirteen. You who took your mother's name, taking a position as a bartender after watching her work three jobs each day."

"H—how did you—"

"Join me, Rivalz," he repeated. "Together, we will change the world."

* * *

><p>Suzaku prodded at his left eye, trying to see something, <em>anything<em> within the reflection of the old glass mirror.

Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. All he saw was his own eye staring back at him, the same as always. But how did that explain the piercing sensation he felt before? How did this 'Geass' work?

He sighed. His thoughts were getting nowhere fast.

Stretching a little, he allowed his eyes to trail over the mess of boxes on the dusty floor, numbered with hurriedly scrawled permanent marker. The terrorist cell was moving their base, and people were expected to pack their belongings. He personally had no belongings other than a duffel bag filled with necessities, and since arriving a week ago there wasn't much to tidy together.

When his phone rang, he tapped the shoulder of the woman beside him and returned the mirror to her before stepping outside. The Front did not save phone numbers on their phones, nor did they choose to display them, so there was no use checking Caller ID.

He flicked the device open, sparing a glance at the reflection of his left eye in the screen, and placed it against his ear.

"Hello?"

"Kururugi."

Suzaku knew that voice well. "Colonel Kusakabe, this is Kururugi Suzaku, sir," he confirmed.

"Good. Are you alone?"

"Yes, sir."

"What I am about to say will be as equal men, not as commander and subordinate. You will not tell anyone of this conversation. Do you agree to these terms?"

Suzaku hid a frown. His long-trusted instinct told him that the breach of protocol would not constitute good news, but his curiosity won him over.

"I agree, sir."

"Very well." Then, when Kusakabe spoke again, all military form was dropped and his voice sounded closer to his age. "Suzaku, do you think the Front is succeeding?"

"What do you mean?"

"I speak of Toudou, and Katase. Do you agree with how they are running the Front as it is?"

_Was he intending to—_

"I still don't get what you mean," Suzaku repeated.

"You know very well what I'm trying to say. Did you not think, when those forty-two Britannian soldiers tried to stand in our path for victory during the _Seiryu_ strikes that they had to be killed?"

"Yes, sir."

There had been more than forty-two Knightmares that day. He remembered the Burai twisting and dodging under his control, slashing his enemies in quick, impossible succession. Few could eject; none could leave.

"What did Toudou do afterwards?" Kusakabe asked. "He punished you. He sent you to Shinjuku and barred you from weapons... orders you did not follow."

"No, sir." It was easy to reply like this, mechanical and undefined.

"Toudou and Katase have grown soft in their efforts to free Japan. They _seek_ for opportunities. We will _create_ our own. Join me. Join me, and you will no longer have to care about their restraints. Just like the Fire Bird of the South, the _suzaku_, I will give you free reign to burn all Britannians who stand in your way without fear of consequence."

Suzaku paused. Then, voice level, he said, "I will have to think about it."

"Very well. You will have six days to decide."

"Six?"

"That is when we will begin our counterstrike. We will stand against the Britannian rule that has chained us to our graves."

Suzaku clenched the phone tighter. Yes; it had chained his father.

"In six days, I will contact you," said Kusakabe. "I await your decision."

* * *

><p>At Ashford Academy, the school days always started the same. Lelouch would wake up, dress, and eat the breakfast provided by their kind Japanese maid Sayoko. Over his food he would greet Nunally and the two would have small talk for no reason but to hear the other's voice, and then he would leave the clubhouse to attend homeroom. Sometimes this changed, when he had something scheduled before school, yet it usually remained the same.<p>

But that day, a week after the events at Shinjuku, was different.

"Lelouch Lamperouge?" his homeroom teacher had called.

Lelouch had signaled for Shirley to go ahead to her next period.

"Yes?" he asked.

"You have a visitor waiting for you at the front gates."

His mysterious visitor turned out to be Lloyd Asplund, standing in his usual lab coat with both hands stuck deep in his pockets. Cécile stood beside him, and the ASEEC mobile base was parked behind both.

"Heeeeey~!" Asplund called.

Lelouch definitely hadn't expected to see them. "Lord Asplund? How did you know I was here?"

"Your uniform, of course."

Right. "What are you doing here?"

"Are you saying we can't visi—" his words blurred into a garbled shout as Cécile stepped on his foot. Then he coughed. "Right. Well, you have a visitor."

A visitor?

The surprise must have shown on his face, because Asplund grinned. Cécile knocked against the side of the vehicle twice. At the signal the door slid open smoothly, as it always did, but Lelouch froze and a chill creeped down his spine.

"Y—you..."

"I never thought, when I began Camelot," he began, voice confident and excluding _aura_, "that Lord Asplund would tell me of the most curious pilot with black hair and purple eyes. And this pilot, coincidentally enough, happened to go by the name of two deceased family members dear to my heart. Lelouch Lamperouge."

Schneizel el Britannia smiled. "It's been too long, my brother."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Now _this_ is getting to the point where it's a story.

Please leave a review? :)


	5. Chapter IV

**A/N:** Still exams. But you guys are too cool.

Today's random hello goes to you readers in Canada! \(^O^)/

* * *

><p><em>"Lelouch Lamperouge? You have a visitor waiting for you at the front gates."<em>

_[...]_

_Schneizel el Britannia smiled. "It's been too long, my brother."_

* * *

><p>Fear bubbled up inside him. Pure, unadulterated fear. It froze up his thoughts in icy wind, and the only thing he could think about was when ten year old Lelouch vi Britannia saw his mother die. When ten year old Lelouch vi Britannia discovered Nunally's paralysis and her loss of eyesight. When ten year old Lelouch vi Britannia confronted his father to demand answers, and then threw away all his remaining ties to the Royal Family.<p>

Lelouch heard his heartbeat in his ears. Never, in all his calculations, had he thought his old life would catch up to him again. An old life he could never return to; would never return to.

"Schneizel..." he hissed.

Schneizel, garbed in an immaculate suit under a flawless white cloak, did not blink an eye at the hate underlying his name. "We've missed you, Lelouch. I, and Cornelia, and especially dearest Euphy."

Lelouch flinched. "Why are you here?"

"To see you, of course. We thought you were dead." Again, the collective 'we'. Lelouch wasn't a fool, he knew Schneizel's game. "How is Nunally?"

"Dead," came the reply. The words rolled off his tongue without prior thought.

"You have my condolences."

"There's no need." _Because Nunally's still alive. _"It's been long enough since then." To assist the telling of this new 'truth', his words were made in reference to the killing of Nunally vi Britannia by name. He watched Schneizel carefully for traces of detecting his lie, but found none. "Surely seeing me couldn't have been the whole reason behind your visit."

"I'm afraid not." There was a sigh, yet it was hollow and more for show. "I'm not sure if you have heard, but there's a fairly large mess in Area Eleven at the moment."

"Lord Asplund informed me, in fact. I did not think you would be the new Viceroy."

"No, I'm not; I merely volunteered to tide things over until brother Atticus straightened his affairs."

Lelouch filed the information away, though he did not know the seventh prince well. In their first and last meeting, Atticus si Britannia had spoken in nothing but spite, a spoilt young man on his sixteenth birthday filled with burning jealousy. By birth order, Lelouch had been five places closer to the throne; Atticus had been three places behind. "I had heard it would be Cornelia."

"The situation with the Middle Eastern Federation has worsened, so she isn't available."

"Ah, I see. How did you escape the EU?"

"It's fortunate that the talks have temporarily died down."

"Oh? What reports we receive portray it in a state of panic." _Knowing you, in all likeliness, you forced them down yourself._

"How very astute." Schneizel laughed. _So you haven't fallen behind on your politics in these seven years after all._ "It takes a while for news overseas to reach these shores, then. But that's enough talk about that, one can get sick of it easily. Will you return to Britannia with me?"

Lelouch felt his stomach clench, and something stirred in the back of his mind. No; the question was far too soon. Nunally... Nunally would not do well in court, where the strong preyed upon the weak.

"It's not too late," Schneizel added. "There is always room in the court for another member. If not for me, then for our family?"

The bait. Family.

Unconsciously, Lelouch took a step back. He would not reach for the carrot, as he knew the stick would always keep it from his grasp. There was no use in trying to reclaim what he had lost, because he never would. He never could.

Schneizel took a step forward. He was now far enough from Asplund and Cécile, the two standing in respectful silence, and though it put him in risk of sniper fire he didn't seem to care.

Another step back, and another step forward.

"Lelouch..."

Lelouch froze. He remembered the first time Schneizel had visited Aries Villa and had been challenged to chess. It was his first loss since taking up the game two years earlier. After the checkmate, whilst a younger Lelouch tried to hold back tears, Schneizel had said his name in the exact same tone.

His pride called out; Lelouch heard its unspoken challenge, and made his decision. He felt defeat at Schneizel's hands in chess. That would be the last time.

His life was his own: Schneizel would _not_ defeat him at anything else.

Lelouch stepped back again, and Schneizel did not follow. Perhaps he'd stopped because he'd seen the determination in his eyes. Perhaps he'd stopped because his next step would bring him into Ashford grounds. Lelouch didn't know. He'd already turned tail and ran.

—

_**Amor fati  
><strong>_N. Silvutra Mayhem

_**IV.**_

—

_"Should we follow him, sir?" called C__é__cile's voice._

_"No," replied Schneizel. "Leave him be. No doubt he knows the school's layout better than either of us, and it would not be prudent to call for a search at this point. Lord Asplund, may I ask another favour and have you escort me to the Viceroy's palace?"_

_"Anything for our sponsor!"_

Lelouch leant against the wall in the shade beside the Science Wing. His breath fell in erratic, heavy gasps. Physical exercise would never be his forte as the result of a poor constitution. He did not dwell on the fatigue beginning to creep up his limbs but the conversation running on repeat in his mind.

_"We've missed you, Lelouch. I, and Cornelia, and especially dearest Euphy."_

_"Why are you here?"_

_"To see you, of course. We thought you were dead. How is Nunally?"_

His eyes widened. When the playback moved on to his reply, he forgot to breathe. Then he found himself doubled over in a violent coughing fit as his lungs forced him to take in air after his exertion. He hadn't been thinking. He'd only wanted to protect Nunally. Of the several possible answers he could have given, he'd chosen the one which would garner the least inquiries to things he couldn't answer.

He'd said she was dead.

He knew Schneizel would be watching him closely, now the el Britannia held the upper hand, to make sure the answers had not been lies at all. Lelouch cursed. Schneizel held more resources, more ability to plant spies, and he would _not_ gain knowledge of Nunally. Which meant Lelouch could no longer visit her for fear of her discovery.

Which meant he'd condemned her to a life of solitude.

Lelouch closed his eyes and tilted his head back so it touched the wall. He took a series of deep breaths to calm himself. He could not get caught up in his fear of the past. His next actions would have to be rational and played with least loss.

Chess, he told himself. Chess. His board was the world, its players spanning lives. _Human_ lives. He had been planning for it ever since the age of ten. It had to be brought forward in schedule after his hasty actions once he'd learnt of Clovis's goals, but he would no longer make those mistakes. He could no longer make those mistakes. Against a grandmaster, a single mistake would be fatal.

Yet, in the face of this prospect, he didn't feel fear. He felt restless anticipation.

He pulled out his phone and dialled a number.

* * *

><p>Rivalz liked to think there were few times he ever felt true regret in his life. Once had been when he'd watch his mother being abused by the man who called himself his father, doing nothing but watching even though it would have been easy to pick up a phone. Another had been when he <em>had<em> picked up a phone, only for the police to do nothing but inflict a warning—the 'father' knew a lot of people, that was when he'd known—and then treat his mother worse since she refused for her son to take part in any of their affairs.

When the phone in his pocket rang and spewed a loud, raucous song, he almost regretted choosing the most obnoxious ringtone he could find. It was funny at the time, but definitely not funny under their teacher's fearsome glare.

"Detention after school, Cardemonde."

"Sorry, sir."

He'd been about to press the reject button when he caught the Caller ID. His eyes widened.

_L._

"Mr Harrison, sir," said Rivalz. He sent his most imploring look the teacher's way. "I really, _really_ need to take this call."

Mr Harrison, a strict, greying man on the brink of retirement and notorious for the bald spot on the left of his scalp, took a moment to consider before inclining his head. "Very well. Go out into the hallway, but your detention still stands."

"Thank you, sir."

When Rivalz left the classroom, he glanced around to find any eavesdroppers. He didn't think he was being paranoid. After all, how many students could say they swore to work alongside their best friend to overthrow the government?

"L?" he asked, once he'd accepted the call. He wasn't being paranoid _at all_.

The reply wasn't immediate, and with every second he worried that something was _wrong_, but an answer finally came. "Rivalz... thank _god_."

Rivalz panicked; he'd never heard Lelouch sound so... so _dead_. "What happened?"

"I... This..."

"Lelouch! Use that brain of yours, then speak to me!"

There was an audible intake of shuddering breath, then the sound of a throat being cleared. "Right. Take Nunally and move her to a secure location."

"What? Why Nunally?"

"Right, you don't... Look, I can't run the risk of this line being tapped. Milly knows, tell her 'our worst fears are realized'."

"Lelouch! What's going on—?"

"I'm going to disappear."

"You—"

"Listen. This is something I have to do. Trust me."

Rivalz hesitated. Somehow he felt a dreadful feeling that if either one of them hung up, they would no longer meet again.

"Alright. I trust you. I'll do it, on one condition."

"What?"

"Promise this won't be the last time we talk to each other."

"...I promise, Rivalz." A throat was cleared on the other end of the line, as if once choked. "I promise, it won't be."

The empty dial tone that followed only echoed those words.

* * *

><p>There were many ways to change an appearance without resorting to surgery.<p>

Lelouch's first order of business had been to visit one of the hair salons close to campus. It hadn't been the closest one, since Schneizel would probably have the sense to start looking there, but it was far enough that even he could make his way without breaking a sweat. There, he had his hair trimmed back; his long locks hid his jaw line, to cut them short would remove the faux shadows once cast.

None of the people inside would have been able to link him back to Ashford, he was certain. A long time ago he'd assessed the possibility of having to use a disguise, and arranged equipment accordingly. Though he hadn't factored in having to relocate his base from the grounds to somewhere unknown, it was only a matter of packing everything away.

That was why the man that walked out of the salon twenty minutes later looked nothing like Lelouch Lamperouge. A cap drawn low hid brown eyes, short black hair tucked close to the scalp underneath. There was no regal stance, replaced by a fairly poor slouch, and thin limbs were hidden by a set of baggy clothes. He knew the disguise wouldn't work at close scrutiny, but it would make recognition more difficult – at least at a distance.

As he crossed the street, his new appearance did lead to a few suspicious glances; glances he well and truly expected. After all: black hair, brown eyes and ill-fitting clothes in that part of town spoke of nothing but _Honorary Britannian_. An Eleven.

But for all his preparation, Lelouch had no clue where to go. A hotel would have been his first choice, one quickly shot down. Though he had enough funds from chess games and favours, the fact remained that both were finite resources and at some point he may have needed them for another purpose. Hotels also didn't possess a reasonable means of escape, nor did they cater well to Honoraries at all.

He didn't know when his feet led him to the Shinjuku ghettos until he stood at their mouth, overlooking ruin. Building after building was bowled over, once lined up neatly like dominoes but knocked down after a spray of bullets. There were a few people shuffling around them, but he had the feeling that the few were nothing like the number who roamed before the incident; the incident one week ago.

There hadn't been a formal announcement on the destruction made, not yet. Clovis's death and Bartley's subsequent escape into hiding easily overshadowed the thousand or so deaths in the ghetto. They were Elevens, and nobody cared.

Lelouch's scowl only deepened with every second he stayed. No, perhaps a hotel would be a better option after all; nothing awaited him, especially with the ghettos in such a state—

"The hell do you think you're doing?"

He gave little acknowledgement to the irritated voice and its owner, a short, thin man standing to the right, dressed in cheap, unbranded clothing. His voice was rough, warped through anger. Surrounding him were a bunch of other men, hanging around him with the connected air of a protective clique.

A gang, then. Or at least, a unit of people uniting against their common enemy.

"Hey! At least listen to me when I speak to you!"

Lelouch didn't deign him a response, turning around to leave. It wasn't worth the effort to talk back; the tension was no doubt an aftermath of the destruction. Unfortunately, his dismissal had the opposite effect, and the next thing he knew, a firm grip landed on his shoulder. He was jerked around.

Suddenly the men were closer than before.

"You think we'll let you go after the shit you Brits did to our homeland? Just because you won once doesn't mean you're better."

"I never said that," Lelouch answered without thinking. Then he mentally kicked himself. He had to get a grip. Focus! "You were not the only people with losses during the war."

"Don't fuck around. Trash like you will never understand the Rising Sun."

"Let me ask you, then: why do you claim to speak for Japan?"

"Because I am _Japanese!_"

"And I have no intention of refuting that."

In the brief moment of surprise, Lelouch shrugged off the hand that stopped him leaving and re-shouldered his backpack. But just as he was preparing to leave, a fist came flying toward his face. The Lamperouge never denied his lack of stamina, nor his lack of muscle mass, but as he fell to the ground and the jagged concrete scratched through to his skin, he felt the incomprehensible urge to curse his ridiculous reflexes.

He pulled himself to his feet, wincing slightly as his knee bumped into something. His hat, knocked loose from the fall, toppled to the ground. Lelouch picked it up, but a voice intervened before he replaced it on his head.

"Lelouch?"

Lelouch stiffened. He'd initially dismissed the man staring at him, but as he saw distinctive green eyes peering through the shadow of a baseball cap, he knew that they, along with untameable brown curls sticking out from the sides, could only have belonged to one person.

"_...Suzaku?_"

Suzaku smiled in relief. Something about it was nagging, because it was different from the ten-year-old Suzaku he remembered. Maybe it lay in the faded nature of his smile, that the lines weren't as prominent as they were before. Maybe it was a combination of the darker, tanned skin, and the broad shoulders and powerful muscles failing to hide under his clothes – both things that hadn't existed before.

Maybe seven years had just been far too many.

"So you survived," said Suzaku. "I _knew_ it was you the other day."

"The other day?" Lelouch asked.

A little too quickly: "Nevermind."

At the same time, the other Japanese man said: "You think you can speak to nobility like that?"

Lelouch couldn't help the wry smirk that appeared as he placed his hat back on, appreciating the irony. "Even if he's my best friend?"

"What? I–Is that true, Kururugi-sama?"

"I told you to cut the -sama, Nobi," said Suzaku. "Lelouch and I were separated after the war. Speaking of, how did you survive?"

"I bumped into a few allies," Lelouch answered. "It's good to see you made it in one piece, too."

"Yeah."

Suzaku was drawn away from the conversation when one of the other men tapped him and began whispering. Nobi still glared at Lelouch, but he had both hands stuffed deep into both pockets as if he were restraining himself.

"A freaking Brit like you knows Kururugi-sama, I can't believe it," he growled. "How the Shinigami can stand your face, I don't even—"

"Nobi," Suzaku called, saving Lelouch from having to answer. "You go ahead with everyone."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm just holding you all up. Don't worry, it's not like I can't get to Kawaguchi alone."

Nobi frowned, shooting a glare in Lelouch's direction. "We'll be at the station, then."

"Fine."

A few nods followed, silent exchanges between all the people present, but when Suzaku straightened again all the other Japanese continued on their way. Lelouch watched with slight humour when they didn't even get past the first corner, content to wait there for their missing peer.

"What's it like to be nobility now?" he shot across.

Suzaku evidently remembered their arguments seven years ago, where he'd used Lelouch's princely status against him, because he scowled. "I'm not the head of house, Toudou won't let me take the title. Anyway, why are you dressed like that? What are you doing here?"

"Nunally and I have been found out, so she's being transported to a safe location and I'm going into hiding."

"Why? Aren't you...?"

"_Vi Britannia_ died after I cut my ties, ever since my _father_ refused to look further into my mother's death. Lamperouge rose in his place."

"Britannia's still a better place to be than here."

"They care not for the weak." Lelouch scoffed. "I refuse to submit to that life—especially not Nunally."

A sudden shout of _"Kururugi-sama!"_ from Nobi made the two of them remember where they were, and how the outskirts of the Shinjuku ghetto was definitely _not_ a suitable place to host a reunion. Suzaku suddenly looked as if he were in a great hurry.

"We'll talk later," Suzaku promised. "How can I contact you?"

"I have a phone," offered Lelouch.

Suzaku shook his head. "No good. I can't send, only receive. Do you know where you'll be?"

"Not yet."

"Well, you'll be staying in the ghetto, right?" There wasn't even an opportunity for a shrug, as Suzaku hurtled on. "What if I gave you an address? I'll be back by tomorrow, they should let you stay the night."

"They?"

"I... don't think I should say." Suzaku searched in his pockets and took out a scrap of paper. "Take it. If they ask, say that it's backed by me."

"So, you're using influence you don't actually have."

"Lelouch?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"That retort really belies your age."

And just like that, as Lelouch ducked the playful swing with a smile twitching at his lips, he was reminded of two ten year olds playing around. Lelouch would win all their word games, end up losing when the conversations turned to tag, and they would be running through the sunflowers with the sun beating at their backs. In the background, Nunally would be giggling at how predictable everything would be, and...

Then the war happened. Then nothing was the same.

"Okay," Lelouch said when he straightened and took the paper, mainly to distract himself from his thoughts. "Godspeed, Suzaku."

"Right. See ya."

When Suzaku ran toward his friends (—_acquaintances; _Lelouch_ was his friend_), for some strange reason a new determination gripped the Lamperouge's heart.

Suzaku was alive. Suzaku was back.

There may still have been hope after all.

* * *

><p>It took a while before Lelouch got used to manoeuvring through the ghetto. Streets no longer existed in neat lanes after the destruction, the only means of travel bordered by fallen walls and bullet-ridden asphalt. There were glares shot his way, glares he avoided by further pulling down his cap. Unlike those in the Settlement, his disguise didn't stand up to Japanese eyes – to them, he was Britannian; to the Britannians, he was Eleven.<p>

The text on the slip of paper was more a description of the surrounding area, rather than an address. Of course. The Britannians took away the identities of those they conquered, as well as their homes. Lelouch checked his triangulation, ensuring the intersection was correct, before taking the left. As he moved deeper, the lane beneath his feet slowly grew straighter and narrower. He kept his eyes on the tall broadcast tower to his right.

There was never a chance to align himself to it, when a gun was raised to his chest.

"Who are you?"

Lelouch skipped the question, instead gesturing to the building behind the guard. He catalogued the blue hair and distinct Japanese features without much thought, lifting the paper he still held. The barrel dug into his chest. His expression remained smooth.

"Is that the location mentioned here?" asked Lelouch.

The guard ripped the note from his hand. "Yeah, that's right," he answered, after a glance. "How the hell did you get that?"

"Kururugi Suzaku told me. He also requested I stay until he returns."

If possible, the news made the guard more irritated. "That bastard's coming back after all," he grumbled under his breath. Without moving the weapon, the guard turned and called, "Oi! Ohgi!"

There was a shuffling involved from within the building, a two-storey warehouse with a large, half-open set of sliding doors. When another man with curly brown hair came out of the side with a shotgun in his hands, Lelouch looked between their weapons, their matching headbands and their defensive stances before everything clicked – especially Suzaku's reluctance to discuss who they exactly were.

The two Japanese entered a whispered conversation. It was easy for Lelouch to see the hold of authority in their body language, to know the brown-haired man was the leader. When they broke apart, the paper had already exchanged hands.

"So Kururugi wants you to stay here, does he?" The leader asked.

"Correct."

"We can't let you do that."

"Why?" Lelouch shot back. "Is it because I'm Britannian?" The nose of the gun shifted, a reminder to watch his words. The reminder was ignored; Lelouch raised an eyebrow. "Or is it because you're trying to keep your terrorist activities under wraps?"

If there was any doubt to his conclusion, their reactions erased them all. _Check._

"There's nothing to worry about," added Lelouch reassuringly, though his tone was anything but. _Your move._ "My heritage may be Britannian, but my mind is as Japanese as yours."

The guard scowled. "Watch how you throw that word around, you—"

"_Sugiyama_," the leader warned. He turned to watch Lelouch. "How do we know you're not lying?"

"You don't," said Lelouch. "However, trusting me doesn't matter, does it? So long as you run the risk of upsetting the Kururugi House, you can't deny allowing my presence to remain in the area."

The leader frowned. Eventually, he wove for Sugiyama to lower his weapon.

"Very well. At least tell us your name."

"L." The displeasure hanging between them intensified, and Lelouch elaborated – it wasn't good to keep them _too_ far away. "I am Britannian, as you know, and not in a position where I can divulge that information."

Neither two seemed satisfied with the answer, but they did give some semblance of grudging consent.

"Fine, then," the leader said. "We will let you stay, however—"

"Who's this, Ohgi?"

Lelouch turned around when he heard the voice behind him. He met bright blue eyes, and despite the black baseball cap hiding her red hair and the slim, brown jumpsuit, there was no denying the woman under the clothes. She obviously recognized him as well, her words cut short by a strangled gasp.

"You're..."

"L," he interrupted, sharply. "I never thought I would meet you here, Kallen Stadtfield."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So, coincidences run rampant. I'm actually wary of using coincidences in fic since they can often seem contrived, but it's difficult as Code Geass is a series where everything is built upon them (and Murphy's Law). Hopefully this chapter isn't too much of a stretch.

The idea of Rivalz's obnoxious ringtone is taken from shadowsofthealmighty's fanfic, _Rivalz of the Rebellion_. :)

Review?


	6. Chapter V

**A/N:** Longest chapter yet, and all thanks to you wonderful, wonderful reviewers! :D I'm not sure if you know how happy you make me.

And a big hello to those in Indonesia~! \(^O^)/

* * *

><p><em>"You're..."<em>

_"L," he interrupted, sharply. "I never thought I would meet you here, Kallen Stadtfield."_

* * *

><p>"Kozuki," she corrected, tone just as fierce. "My name is Kozuki Kallen."<p>

There was no mistaking it. Nobody, _nobody_ else could have recognized her as _Stadtfield_.

"My apologies," said Lelouch Lamperouge.

"Do you know him?" Sugiyama asked.

Did she know him? _Yes_, she wanted to say, _because he's a student at our school _– _the _vice-president_ of the Student Council_. Then she remembered the meeting between him and Rivalz, the meeting she'd overheard. Lelouch was staring at her, eyes transmitting a message she didn't understand. He'd introduced himself as 'L' – was that the alias he used for achieving his goals?

Did that mean he was on their side? Should she—?

"I don't," she answered.

Sugiyama shrugged it off, but Ohgi's doubtful look remained on his face. The message in Lelouch's eyes changed, something more according to thanks—a message that was ignored. Kallen still held the knowledge of his identity over his head, and she knew she could use it any time she wanted. But first...

"What do you want?"

"Kururugi Suzaku needed a means in which to contact me," replied Lelouch. "As my prior living arrangements were no longer practical, he directed me here to stay until he returns."

Kallen could read between the lines: he couldn't stay at Ashford anymore. What really irritated her was his mention of Kururugi, yet she wondered how one of the Japanese most loyal to the JLF's cause knew a Britannian. A high-class Britannian, if Lelouch's vernacular and penmanship were anything to go by.

She looked to Ohgi. "So?"

"We can't upset the Kururugi House, can we?" asked Ohgi.

Sugiyama frowned. "But what if he's lying?"

Ohgi paused to consider the possibility. He then lifted his shotgun and pointed it in Lelouch's direction.

"Well? Can you prove it?"

"Not directly, no," said Lelouch. "But Suzaku returns tomorrow morning, and you can meet him then. All I ask is that you let me remain in the vicinity."

"And let you discover our plans?" Sugiyama shot back.

"I have no interest in what you're devising."

"You're a Brit, of course you—"

"If you must judge by blood, Kallen is also Britannian."

"Yeah? Well she—she's Japanese!"

"And that is her reason for fighting." Lelouch raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't it occur to you that Britannians may have reason to hate their nation as well?"

—Of course. Lelouch wanted to liberate Japan because he wanted to make a peaceful world. The passion in his words could not be denied. Didn't some of their crew have similar ideals?

"It's fine," she found herself saying. "I'll vouch for him."

"Kallen..." muttered Ohgi.

She spotted Lelouch's slight frown (—the tiny Stadtfield within said she was putting him into her debt—) and remembered she'd been _eavesdropping_, so he wouldn't know she knew. Quickly, she backtracked to save face.

"It's just one night, right? If Kururugi does come tomorrow morning then we'll let him go, if he doesn't then we can shoot or something."

There weren't any hints of enthusiastic agreement at her proposal. Eventually, Lelouch removed his sharp, scrutinizing gaze away from her, Sugiyama grumbled and Ohgi rested the shotgun against his shoulder.

"Fine," said Ohgi. "One night, _L_, then you're gone."

—

_**Amor fati  
><strong>_N. Silvutra Mayhem

_**V.**_

—

In all of one hour, Kallen wondered for the umpteenth time why the _hell_ she thought backing Lelouch Lamperouge was a good idea. It was just one night, she repeated over and over again. One night.

If she was trying to convince herself by using the arguments she'd plucked out of midair, it wasn't working.

Someone climbed the steps at the edges of her peripheral vision, and then took a spot beside her to lean against the rail bordering the second storey overhang.

"You have my gratitude."

Kallen couldn't help but glance in his direction. Lelouch looked different, certainly, from the heavily trimmed hair to the baggy clothes. Even so, the look behind the brown contacts was undeniably identical, as well as the sharp lines to his face and the inflections in his speech. A part of her noted that he was facing the wall behind her, which meant his mouth happened to be in line with her ears.

She doubted it was coincidence.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I told you," he replied. "I have a meeting with Kururugi Suzaku."

"As L? Or as Lelouch?"

He looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. "Lelouch."

"You're not serious."

"I assure you, I'm always serious."

With a scowl, she turned away from the view of the first floor so the two of them were facing the same direction. Her arms rested on the railing now situated behind her.

"What happened at Ashford?" she snapped. "Why are you dressed like—you're on the run, aren't you?"

"Ah."

Kallen glared, waiting for him to elaborate. Five seconds later, the glare had risen by ten notches.

"_Lelouch_," she growled.

The response was immediate. "Don't call me that."

"Then, _Lelouch_," she said, excruciatingly slowly, "explain why you're here."

"You know. I'm in hiding."

"From who, _Lel_—"

"Will you stop using that name?" he hissed.

"If you want me to stop using it, tell me who the hell you're hiding from!"

Lelouch opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. After a few moments, he glanced away. "Military."

Kallen blinked. It took a few moments to settle in. When it did, she gripped him by the shoulders.

"You—you _idiot!_ Now they're going to be after us—"

"Unlikely."

How he could look so calm when the military could be busting the doors of their _new_ hideout she would never know.

"_Unlikely?_ What do you mean by—"

"A coup doesn't happen every day. The internal investigation will take weeks, especially considering the number of soldiers involved with the scheme."

"The... scheme?"

"All the Knightmares turning against each other instead of fighting the Purist Sutherland and the Glasgo—"

He broke off abruptly, startled expression mirroring hers, and she had the distinct feeling he'd said too much. She recovered first.

"The news only showed the arrest and the surveillance footage. They mentioned soldiers involved, but there wasn't anything about Knightmares at all," she accused. "How do you know about the Glasgow?"

"Rivalz and I skipped class to have some fun. We saw the battle happen on our way back to school."

Lelouch's nonchalant expression alongside the ease in which he said the words would have fooled her, were it not for the fact that she'd noticed his earlier slip-up. His mention of Rivalz did spark at her memory, though she couldn't remember why—

_"How could I forget my best friend _blackmailing_ a Marquess and piloting a _seventh-generation Knightmare?_"_

Seventh-generation Knightmare? The white one? She didn't see, only heard, but... _that_ was _Lelouch?_

"Actually," said Lelouch, his voice cutting into her thoughts. "How do _you_ know about the Glasgow?"

"Uhh..." Think fast! "I saw it too."

As soon as she said the words, she realized how stupid they were. She'd never been too good at impromptu, since she only ever used one excuse anyway...

Idea.

"I didn't attend school that day, either," she added. "I was visiting the doctor."

_That_ came out worse than she intended. Thankfully, Lelouch looked like he bought it, because he seemed satisfied and didn't question further. Instead, he shook his shoulders free from her grip and changed the subject.

"Don't worry about the military, they want me alive. I'll just hand myself over if they turn up."

"They'll still find the base."

"You have contingency plans if they do, right? I'll say I convinced you to let me stay."

"If you think they're going to believe that, then—"

"They'll listen."

"And who are you to command them?"

An ironic smile appeared, one he didn't even try to hide. "Far higher than the Lady Kallen Stadtfield."

"Don't use that title with me!"

His smile widened, and she realized his ploy. Yes, she _had_ been distracted.

Her scowl deepened. "Why don't you use your position if you're so high and mighty?"

"I fail to see how that should concern you."

"Stop avoiding the question."

"What question am I avoiding?"

Kallen narrowed her eyes. "Remember that I'm the reason you're allowed to stay, _L_. If I want to know which family you're from, _humour me_."

She didn't know why she was trying to find out. There were plenty of families with higher standing than the Stadtfield Earldom, though they were spread few and far between – especially off the Britannian mainland. But something irritated her about the way Lelouch kept dodging everything she shot in his direction. Something that made her want to throttle him until she got some answers.

There was something about the subject he seemed to dodge more than usual, and she wanted to know why. Even if she had to resort to blackmail.

"My background is irrelevant," said Lelouch. Lips were curved into a frown, the first real reaction she'd raised. "I rescinded my title."

"You—_what_?"

"Nothing."

"That—that's not 'nothing'," she spluttered. A Britannian willingly giving up so much standing, in the vulturous court of nobility? "You _rescind_—"

She broke off when Lelouch lifted his hand, the universal sign for 'stop'. Were it not for the look on his face she would have disregarded it entirely. Kozuki would never have expected such a dark expression on the light hearted, smiling vice-president, an expression that promised severe repercussions if explored further. Stadtfield recognized it as the face hidden behind expensive gowns and sparkling champagne.

"Do _not_ mention that again," warned Lelouch. "Especially not here. Don't relate yourself to things that don't concern you."

"You—"

"Lelouch..." he hesitated. "Lelouch Lamperouge is dead."

Kallen found herself lost for words.

He turned away. "I'll show myself around."

* * *

><p>"—fold, you suck—"<p>

_"_—_add a pinch of salt for taste_—"

"—and then that chick totally said, 'I think you—"

_"_—_the Lake Kawaguchi Convention Centre_—_"_

"—the _hell_ you have five aces—"

_"_—_With the power of friendship, I_—_"_

"Wait!" shrieked Inoue. "Go back!"

Yoshida's eyes widened as a blue blur hurtled in his direction, and lifted the remote away from her grasp. "What the sh—"

"Go back to that last channel!"

Exasperated, Yoshida complied. Their commotion had garnered some attention from the base's other occupants – occupants which were now captivated by the television screen. A pretty female reporter was speaking, the text '_BREAKING NEWS_' plastered across the bottom.

_"_—_claimed responsibility is the Japanese Liberation Front. Hostages include the full Sakuradite Distribution Council, as well as several staff and tourists who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."_

"Hah, I knew it!" cried Tamaki, pumping his fist in the air. "The Front are still fighting for us!"

"No, they're not."

Everyone turned away from the panning of the Convention Centre's exterior, at least briefly, to the Britannian who had arrived on the directions of Kururugi Suzaku. He hadn't spoken a word since four hours ago, where he'd accepted the area of floor they'd assigned him with a soft but solid acknowledgement. Now he sat crosslegged, leaning on the backpack tucked behind him, and the book in his hands was shut firmly closed.

"What are you saying?" asked Ohgi.

"They're doing nothing but terrorism."

Tamaki scowled. "How would a _Britannian_ like you know anything about the Japanese?"

"Enough to know they would never take innocent civilians as hostages in return for their demands."

"So what?"

L shrugged. "See for yourself."

The report continued, phasing to stock footage of famous sakuradite mines and the mining process – hundreds of working bees huddled across wide conveyer belts, and a line of trucks filled to overflowing with rock fragments from deep inside the earth.

_"_—_a critical component in the manufacture of high-temperature superconductors, making it a strategic resource with global security implications. Area Eleven is the world's largest producer of sakuradite, responsible for seventy percent of the supply on the market..."_

The sight of the blazing furnaces deep within Mount Fuji were cut off as the cameras switched back to the reporter. She had a hand placed against her earpiece, and a thicker bundle of print-outs in her hands.

_"HI-TV have just received word that the leader of the terrorists is a man calling himself Lieutenant Colonel Kusakabe of the former... Japanese Army. This is a video sent by the criminals."_

"Kusakabe?" asked Sugiyama, turning toward Minami. "Wasn't that the guy Kururugi kept calling?"

Nobody saw L freeze, let alone hear the small hiss that escaped his lips. Minami never had a chance to answer when the image switched into a greying video feed, the type taken by subpar equipment.

_"As you can see, the full board of the Sakuradite Distribution Council is present inside the building, interrupted during the annual Sakuradite Producing Nations conference to determine the international distribution rate of this valuable commodity."_

A much clearer feed replaced the last, depicting a group of military convoys moving in to the hotel's front gates.

_"The Britannian counter-strike is led by General Calares. He holds the position once occupied by the now estranged Asprius Bartley, instated by Acting Viceroy Schneizel el Britannia less than an hour ago. The terrorists have released a series of demands and have issued the time of one hour. There is no official ultimatum if they are left unfulfilled, but at this stage we can only assume the worst."_

"_Damnit!_"

L was no longer sitting down. He had a fist slammed against the wall, his head lowered, and the book fell to the ground in a whump of dust. "The _idiots!_"

"What the hell?" Tamaki shouted back. "Don't be so loud! I could kick you right out 'cause Kallen went back to school."

"All of you don't get it, do you?"

"Get what? You _want_ to sleep outside?"

"Watch what you're saying," added Inoue, crossing her arms under her chest. "Don't talk about what you don't understand."

"I understand." Then he was glaring, eyes filled with the burning of a thousand flames. "I understand that the Front are _fucking stupid!_"

Inoue was the one to reply. "They're fighting for our freedom!"

"If they're fighting, it's to get themselves _killed_." L began to pace. "Britannia is not a lenient country. You ought to know this better than anyone else."

"Of course I do."

"Then you know that they would have gotten imprisonment if they'd kept to the hijacking. But because they put the lives of Britannians at risk, the death penalty is the only thing meeting the Front now."

"Not if they escape," Yoshida pointed out.

"How?" asked L. "They've holed themselves up in the building. It's a matter of time until the military destroys all points of entry. Using the hostages as a threat is useless – Britannia needs a reason to overreact and they have to redeem their image. The Front may have bought some time with such high-profile members of society under their control, but that's all they are. Members who are disposable and can be replaced. Negotiations could fail, the military could be storming in any moment now, and there would be no escape."

"They must have some sort of plan—"

"They _don't_ have any sort of plan!" L hissed. "It's impossible to avoid predicting this situation! This mission was doomed to failure from the very start!"

"Look, L," said Sugiyama. "I get what you're saying and all, but they're obviously doing it for a reason."

Yoshida nodded. "Yeah, they're probably telling Britannia that we're still fighting out there." Briefly, his eyes flickered to Inoue's direction. "The Front are honourable men; they're not the type to send people to their graves."

"Yet they are."

The ultimatum was delivered, the conversation forcibly closed. L lapsed into thought, hiding closed eyes behind his palm. The news report still continued in the background, depicting various interviews with the friends and families of those caught within the siege. Soon enough, attentions were diverted and conversations sprouted and took hold, leaving the sole Britannian to his silent thoughts.

Inoue was one of the two who didn't lose interest in L. The other was Ohgi. Minami shot the occasional glance toward L, and Yoshida sent some to Inoue, but nobody else noticed.

"Why do you care so much?"

L started, and then resolute faux-brown eyes met sceptical blue. "Kururugi will be meeting me tomorrow. It's a little bit difficult for a dead man to attend."

"That's not it," stated Inoue. "You don't want them to die."

A small, faltering smile. "How perceptive."

"Why?

"Suzaku was... Suzaku is my best friend." The murmur was imperceptible, a lone little boy overwhelmed by the scale of the world around him. Inoue would have missed it, were it not for the fact that she had been paying especially close attention.

Still, she had no reply.

Then a hand pressed down on her shoulder, and Yoshida's concerned expression met hers.

"Inoue, he's not like—"

"I know," she cut in. "But he has a point. The Front are leaving our people to die, and I can't just sit aside and do nothing."

L's words broke her thoughts. "How long is it to Kawaguchi?"

"I'm not sure," Yoshida replied.

"One hour from Shinjuku to Kawaguchi," said Ohgi, breaking into the conversation. "Fifteen-twenty minutes to from here to the Shinjuku station."

L grimaced. "That leaves us thirty minutes overtime."

"Us?" asked Inoue.

"You want to save them, don't you?"

"Don't joke around. The military is there, and they've got Knightmares too... it's impossible!"

"Then I will _make _it possible."

"That's enough, L," Ohgi warned. "If you want to go, I can't stop you. What I won't let you do is order my comrades and send them into these situations. Out there you've got no plan, no backup, and there's no way we can do anything with the military keeping a solid eye."

A smile pulled at L's lips, a Cheshire smirk that hid volumes untold.

"While I admire your morality, let me ask you something," he said. "The military may control matters outside, but what if you could control the military?"

* * *

><p>"You have ten minutes," the gruff voice said over the line. "Then your dead body isn't my business anymore."<p>

Lelouch couldn't help the satisfaction crossing his mind as he closed the connection without reply. He had really been fortunate when Victor Calares was announced as being in charge of the operation, especially considering L had 'come across' some information detailing a certain affair. On his part, Calares was brilliant at the game, managing through whatever means to gain the extra half-hour needed for L to get on-site and permitting him access.

His eyes flickered toward the riverbank behind the HI-TV vans. It had been difficult to get the terrorist cell's aid, but the promise of keeping them away from the main action and providing a sure escape route turned out to be enough. The woman Inoue's conviction helped in getting them to concede. Now he just had to fulfil his end of the plan.

The plan itself was terrible. There were too many unidentified variables and no way to control them, resulting in a less-than satisfactory success rate that no one other than himself knew.

27%.

The entrance was getting closer. The two guards spotted him and pointed their guns, and Lelouch lifted his arms to show he was unarmed.

"Who goes there?" one asked.

Lelouch took a deep breath and cleared his mind; this would need precision adaptability. Fortunately enough, Calares inadvertently created a cover story.

"Alan," he said, genially. "Alan Spacer. I'm a psychiatrist specializing in human interaction and the chief negotiator for this incident. I would like to meet with the Lieutenant Colonel."

The two guards exchanged a glance. "Did the Lt. Col. send orders for him?"

"Dunno. Don't think so."

"You wanna ask?"

"Hell no. He sent everyone out, remember?"

"Yeah, he wanted a talk with that Kururugi kid."

"Kururugi Suzaku is here?" asked Lelouch.

The first guard gave him a glare. "Damn right he is. What for?"

"Call him."

"You think you can order me?"

"No. But Kururugi can."

"And what, you think he'll just let you in?"

"I _know_ he will let me in," Lelouch corrected. "I believe calling him will be in your best interests – after all, he _is_ the head of House."

The two guards exchanged glances again. Then the second guard reached for the transceiver.

The initial conditions were cleared.

* * *

><p>"What was it you wished to speak to me about, sir?" asked Suzaku.<p>

He stood at attention in the middle of the room, a room filled with expensive mahogany and lush carpeting. One and a half hours ago it had been the hotel's boardroom, now it acted as base of operations. In the silence he couldn't help reflecting how the Front's dark olive uniforms once clung uncomfortably to his skin; now he was accustomed to the stiff, awkward collar and the sensation of creases between his legs and his leather boots. Kusakabe, the other of the two occupants, did not move from his position after dismissing the rest of his officers.

Then, after a too-long silence, Kusakabe turned to face him. "You are the sole successor to the Kururugi title, correct?"

Suzaku noted with half a mind that the Lieutenant Colonel's stance, with both arms tucked behind his sturdy frame, happened to emphasise the location of the blade hanging at his hip.

"I am, sir."

"What do you think about this strike of ours?"

"I told you, sir. I'm willing to do anything so long as it results in Britannia's destruction."

"So you are unfazed by the early surrender of Japanese troops, seven years ago?"

"Not unfazed. His death is not the problem, Britannia is."

Kusakabe's stare was long. "I see. Would you know anything of his death?"

"As much as anyone does, sir. He was murdered seven years ago with the poison of the common Japanese wisteria. There were enough signs of breaking and entering by a third party to confirm it wasn't a suicide, but no traces to identification to track who it was."

Then both their transceivers crackled. _"Kururugi, sir. This is the front guard. There is a man who claims to know you at the gates."_

Kusakabe was the one to answer. "Who is it?"

_"C-Colonel! It_—_uh, it's a Britannian who calls himself Alan Spacer, the chief negotiator."_

"Destroy him. Show Britannia we will not cave to her demands."

_"Wait,"_ a familiar, distant voice called. _"To him, I am... L."_

"Hold it!" Suzaku shouted, even as his insides tumbled and churn. It was Lelouch; it couldn't have been anyone other than Lelouch. Nobody else could be stupid enough to turn up during a siege. He didn't like the feeling that his involvement with the Front would be divulged, but there were no other options. "He's my friend, let him in."

The connection was terminated before he could finish, but it was with a sigh of relief that Suzaku noted the front guard would have reason to hesitate over their order. Lelouch's silvery tongue would buy some extra time.

"And why," Kusakabe began, cutting his thoughts into two, "should I comply with that wish, soldier?"

Needles of foreboding penetrated Suzaku's senses for the first time in the Lieutenant Colonel's presence, echoed by the tickling of his Geass behind one eye. It was more than Lelouch's brash actions potentially getting himself injured or even ruining their plans. Kusakabe's tone was dangerously low, and Suzaku remembered that here, no matter how he was treated by the people around him, nor his years of dedication, he was still a lowly Private challenging a man nine ranks above his own.

He drew himself tall. "Because I command it with the Kururugi House behind me."

"No," corrected Kusakabe. "_Toudou_ controls the Kururugi House. You are unrelated in all but name."

Of course. One of the rare times he actually used his backing, Kusakabe already knew.

"Then... you wanted to know about my father's death, right? If... If anyone knows anything, it's him."

Kusakabe did not look convinced. "Do not play word games with me."

"I'm not! He—He stayed with us before the war."

"A Britannian would not be staying at the house of a Japanese Minister."

"_Britannia_ was the one to send him."

"...What?"

_Forgive me, Lelouch_, thought Suzaku. "He is Lelouch vi Britannia, eleventh prince to the Holy Britannian Empire!"

As soon as he spoke those words, a glint appeared in Kusakabe's eyes. Suzaku knew he'd just sold out his best friend, but the alternative – letting him die – was unacceptable. Kusakabe had a new bargaining chip against the Brits, a chip he would not hesitate to use.

The Lieutenant Colonel held down the _send_ command on the transceiver's side.

"Bring this _L_ to the boardroom. I wish to meet with him."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Kallen POV is surprisingly hard for me to write. I hope it's okay.

Just for the record – I'm well aware hostage negotiations don't work like that. But there _was_ a case in real life where the police sent a psychiatrist to meet the terrorist directly... and granted they never made sense in canon either because_ they didn't exist _in the first place. Media coverage, honestly?

...Is it wrong that I feel like I need a bigger cliffhanger?

Review~ ;)


	7. Chapter VI

**A/N:** So, it's NaNoWriMo season again. (I'm on as _Silvutra M._, I'd love to add you guys to my buddies list ^^) I've received some comments regarding pairings and C.C. (but not together ;D). No, there will be no pairings – at least, nothing more than what exists in canon, and yes, C.C. will appear. Just... later.

Thanks for all your reviews~! (And to the anonymous reviewer 'lala': Please get an account so I can reply? :)

Today's random hello? Greetings, friends in the U. S. of A.! (/ ^q^)/ ~

* * *

><p>Forgive me<em>, Lelouch, thought Suzaku. "He is Lelouch vi Britannia, eleventh prince to the Holy Britannian Empire!"<em>

_[...]_

_"Bring this L to the boardroom. I wish to meet with him."_

* * *

><p>The two minutes between Kusakabe's call and Lelouch's arrival were the longest two minutes in Suzaku's life. He was worried. Why did Lelouch appear at Kawaguchi, even going lengths to obtain a pseudonym to garner access? Why was Lelouch, who was supposed to be in hiding, choose to appear even though he was disguised?<p>

It was stupid to think that Lelouch wouldn't have changed in seven years. The question now, was how much?

An impossible thought occurred to him—perhaps Lelouch hadn't been lying about the pseudonym after all? Lelouch... 'Alan Spacer'... could Lelouch have joined the military, and about to turn them in?

The sliding doors slid open then, and Lelouch appeared in the doorway. One look at his face threw Suzaku's suspicions out of the window. Lelouch was Lelouch, and would always be Lelouch, with that confident façade and near-arrogant demeanor. Suzaku suspected the fact that Lelouch happened to be unrestrained and almost _flanked_ by the front guard was due to his silver tongue, even though he was a Britannian intruder.

Nobody spoke. Kusakabe dismissed the two soldiers, and it was only when the sound of footsteps ceased and the three were all alone did he speak.

"So you are L."

"I am," replied Lelouch. His words were slow, his pace measured. "I have heard of you, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Hn. You are a fool for trying to enter alone."

"What is the man who leaves himself unaccompanied in a room where two people are allies?"

"A man who holds power," he answered, unsheathing his blade with fluidity speaking of years of experience. The tip fell to rest, pointing in Lelouch's direction. "and a man who holds all the cards. Wouldn't you agree, _vi Britannia_?"

A flash of surprise flew across Lelouch's calm expression. Then it was gone, creases smoothed back to rest flatly against the surface, as if nothing had occurred at all—save for the guilt now pooling from Suzaku's nerves.

"So you know. Still... you never answered my question. Why send everyone else out of the room when it would make more sense to keep them as your guard?"

"I would think you would prefer less people knowing who you were."

"But I'm the hostage – technically, I shouldn't have any rights. What is so important that I would know and your subordinates shouldn't hear?"

"Answers."

"Oh?"

"Tell me what you know about Kururugi Genbu's death."

"I don't know anything."

"You were the political hostage sent by Britannia to the Kururugi Shrine. You stayed there before and after his death."

"Even so, you honestly don't expect me to..."

It was almost with painful slowness that Kusakabe moved his blade away. Then it fell in a swift arc, reflecting the room's too-bright lights for the briefest instant before stopping just short of Suzaku's throat. The shrieking of his Geass in the back of his mind didn't cease; if anything, it had only increased in pitch and unbearable pressure stabbed in the back of his eye.

He saw Lelouch stiffen in the corner of his eye, and almost lost control of his Geass's hold. Though he wasn't completely sure of its capabilities, the situation reminded him of the old subway line. A repeat of the incident was the last thing he wanted—the responsibilities for his best friend's death shouldn't be added under that of the green haired girl's.

A small part of him noticed that Lelouch's hands only reached further into his pockets.

"_Tell me_," Kusakabe snarled, the blade all the threat he needed. "Tell me everything you know."

—

_**Amor fati  
><strong>_N. Silvutra Mayhem

_**VI.**_

—

The glowing sun shadowing Mount Fuji's wintery slopes slowly but steadily dipped below the horizon. Even the sakuradite mine could not detract from the sweeping landscape of scattered violets and golds, the industrial steel framework tainted by deep copper and rich amber tones that transitioned into black. In the last half hour of sunset, the change between vibrant colour and lonesome darkness was quick and ruthless; an end to the day, marking the beginning of another.

Ohgi tugged his coat closed as the chilly temperatures began making themselves known. Similarly, crouched uncomfortably under a bush to his left, Yoshida rubbed his arms to increase his circulation. There was frustration in the action, the frustration Ohgi felt at being forced to do nothing and just sit there waiting.

He glanced past the television vans nearby to look at the stationed military convoy. It was not the first time, and would not be the last time, but every time he did he couldn't help but feel the bubbling of dread boil within him. There were at least fifty Sutherlands, all shining ash and cobalt, huddled around in a group and waiting for further orders. According to overheard discussions, they hadn't moved since three machines were lost to the underground tunnel. Apparently the bridges weren't attempted because the water crew spotted liberal numbers of plastic explosives hidden beneath.

It was clear the Japanese Liberation Front had a plan, despite L's words. There was no more point hanging around a man that insane, a man that risked their crew's lives without giving anything in return.

He looked at Inoue, at her rigid stance. She hadn't moved nor complained since their arrival, when she'd set up one of the few rocket launchers their crew still owned. In a normal instance they wouldn't have even _tried_ transporting weapons so obvious through public transport, but nobody blinked twice at the nondescript golf bag and the security systems were avoided after money left L's hands.

A lot of money.

"How much longer?" muttered Yoshida.

"Until we receive the signal," answered Inoue. "Until then, we wait."

"We've been _waiting_ for ages already! There's no reason to stay in this further."

"Then go."

Yoshida rolled his eyes. "I know you want to save them, Misaki, but it doesn't mean you should risk your life for a _Brit_."

"There's no reason for L to risk his life for the _Japanese_."

When it seemed as if Yoshida was about to blow their cover, perched precariously close to the overwhelming Britannian forces and at ridiculous risk of being discovered, Ohgi stepped in.

"Enough," he said. "We're here, we agreed to L's stupid plan for our own reasons," his was to make sure his comrades could be alright, "and we have no choice but to stay until we receive indication that we should—"

As if prompted, the cell phone in his hands began vibrating. The sender was listed as being from a private number, but the message itself could not have been more plain.

_Now._

—_L_

Yoshida was already moving, the brunette disappeared down their escape route. Ohgi nodded to Inoue, and she took aim.

A billowing plume of exhaust smoke emerging from the shore and the missile speeding toward the Lake Kawaguchi Convention Centre's lower floors were the only warning. Glass shattered and concrete turned to dust at the point of impact, then all the lights in the building flickered before shorting out altogether.

Things would soon be going to hell.

* * *

><p>"I find it interesting," said Lelouch, "that you take so much interest in Kururugi Genbu's death. After all, what is there to know?"<p>

"The truth," Kusakabe said. "Tell me who killed him."

"I can't tell you what I don't know. Unless... you have a suspect?"

Kusakabe's eyes flashed. "_Suspect?_ The only thing I lack is proof."

Strangely, Lelouch remained silent. He glanced in Suzaku's direction as if he could see the Geass pounding louder than ever, and Suzaku froze until that gaze turned away.

"I see," Lelouch answered, finally. "So that's what you think."

"Exactly. Only one person would have had the motive to kill him."

"Yet you haven't considered the possibility it's a false lead?"

"Only one person benefited from his death!"

"That conclusion is ridiculous!"

"Ridiculous? There is _no other answer!_"

"_Suzaku was ten years old!_"

Their voices, once slowly rising in intensity, were now shouts of accusation directed at one another. No, not one another; now that Suzaku finally understood what they were trying to say, he realized that Kusakabe's words were hacking barbs, biting at the edges of Lelouch's carefully crafted shield.

"_Private_ Kururugi gained a free pass to becoming head of house, whilst the rest of Japan suffered from the surrender," said Kusakabe. "You did it, didn't you? You were the one responsible for killing Prime Minister Kururugi!"

Suzaku flinched at the accusation, the confirmation of his fears, and his mind fell into turmoil. The Geass took advantage of his lapse in concentration—he felt the wave of power leave his eye and ripple around him, finally free from its chains.

Then there was a laugh. A laugh bordering on the edge of hysteria, as if several important strings had snapped and broken away.

"You know what?" Lelouch asked, suddenly, a lopsided, toothy smirk on his face. "You're right."

"Of course," said Kusakabe.

The blade in his hands flashed as the tip moved close to Suzaku's throat. Suzaku's eyes widened, his pupils following its path. He couldn't activate his Geass again because it was still active. He couldn't die; not without destroying Britannia—

"I do know about Kururugi Genbu's death," continued Lelouch. In any other situation he could be considered unfazed, but the loss of focus in his eyes were from the Geass's power and his head was cocked slightly to the side. He still shook with laughter, though most of the emotion was gone. "In fact, you might say there's no reason for you to threaten Kururugi-sama any more."

The blade didn't move, but a frown settled on Kusakabe's expression. "What?"

"Simple."

Lelouch withdrew his left hand from his pocket, a phone enclosed within. For an instant, Kusakabe stared at it suspiciously, then he lunged for the device as realization struck. He was not given time to reach it; one slender finger already pressed down the _send_ key on the message displayed, before Lelouch tossed it over their heads to the other side of the room.

"You—" hissed Kusakabe.

The other hand was withdrawn, a hand containing a slim pistol. Lelouch cocked the slide and pointed in Kusakabe's direction.

"_I_ killed Kururugi Genbu."

Several things happened at once.

The lights all shorted out, plunging the room into darkness. Suzaku stumbled back at the sudden change in light and reflexively clamped his hand over his left eye, afraid of a glowing or _something_ that would give his condition away. Neither Kusakabe or Lelouch noticed, one losing his target from the unexpected dark and too slow to react to the confession, the other expecting the events whilst under that darned, cursed trance.

A gunshot rang through the building.

Kusakabe's body fell to the floor, almost in slow motion. The force in which Lelouch returned to his senses startled Suzaku, but not more than the dark calm replacing confusion in his best friend's eyes. Lelouch turned his stare to the pistol, the semi-automatic backlit eerily by the twilight post-sunset. There was a distinct lack of surprise when the realization made his eyes widen; the realization that he had been responsible for the death of a high ranking soldier.

Still, he regained coherency first, speaking even as he returned the slide to battery and the safety lock was engaged.

"Suzaku, are you okay?"

Suzaku didn't move. His breaths were sharp and ragged, each taken like a man driven to exhaustion. Lelouch's concern barely made it through the slowly fading layers of pressure and pressure and _pressure_ created from his Geass's suppression—but that same Geass still activated nonetheless, and forced his friend to take action he wouldn't have otherwise taken.

There was no time to ponder Lelouch's actions under its influence. No time to dwell on whether they had been fact or a large, disarming bluff, and no time to question him further; there were more pressing matters to attend.

"Unharmed," Suzaku replied. "The lights?"

"I had the power generators on the bottom floor destroyed." A grimace flittered over Lelouch's features. "Unfortunately, this is enough reason for the military to send all their troops in."

"Don't worry, we've placed bombs underneath the bridges. When they try to cross, we'll—"

"You think they won't have noticed? No, it's been over an hour. They're probably all disarmed by now."

"The _Raikou_ is underground."

"Raikou?"

"A massive coilgun modified from four Glasgows. It fires a high velocity shell that can release two dozen steel ball bearings during launch."

Lelouch looked impressed. "Ingenious. But you have a problem: it's underground. The military will be crossing by road."

"Don't underestimate us, Lelouch. We have people on standby—"

A series of violent explosions sounded from beyond, followed by the sound of huge waves created by dispersing large amounts of water. The two of them moved closer to the window, careful to remain behind the curtains to either side so as to reduce the risk of sniping, and were greeted with the view of a massive hole in both the eastern and western bridges. The supports themselves were damaged at one central location, and the Sutherlands that were still intact were doing their best to escape the impending collapse.

"What...?"

"Underwater," answered Suzaku. "They didn't find the explosives hidden there."

Amidst his relief, he didn't mention that the blast radius should have been larger, and would have been larger, had the other bombs survived.

"That was your last line of defence, wasn't it?"

Suzaku realised with a start that yes, yes it had been. The surviving Sutherlands would no doubt regroup with the main convoy, and though the Raikou could hold up perfectly underground, the front entrance was exposed. They couldn't see the front entrance from their location, but he knew innately that the Britannians would be moving in.

"Yeah," he replied. "Now what?"

"I... don't know." Lelouch sent a glance down to Kusakabe's still form, distracted. "He was your commander?"

"He was."

"So you have lost your leader – this will be difficult."

"I can take command," replied Suzaku, his words spilling out without reason. "Lelouch, do you have any ideas on how to get us out?"

"Some."

"Then you're in charge. Tell me what we need to do."

"...What?"

"I need you and your brain to find an escape."

"You shouldn't need my help for that, unless..." Lelouch's eyes widened. "No. Suzaku!"

"I have to do it."

"But you can't go out there! I—Idiot, that's suicide!"

"You'll need a distraction. I'm the best in a Knightmare on-site – nobody else can do it except me."

"_Suzaku!_"

"Trust me, Lelouch." He smiled, though it had difficulty reaching his eyes. "Together, we can do anything; isn't that what we say?"

Lelouch tightened his grip around his gun. Even without the Geass's lack of reaction, he knew it was only a reflexive action and not a threat.

"Trust me," repeated Suzaku. "I'll survive."

Something about those words seemed to ignite a flicker of recognition. Suzaku couldn't help but freeze, hoping Lelouch didn't ask for an explanation. An explanation he couldn't give, not now, not when the Geass was sluggishly rising in intensity in the back of his mind as it reacted to the death he knew he was about to face.

"Fine," was the growled reply, an eternity later, sent through Lelouch's clenched, perfect teeth. "Let's do this."

* * *

><p>The <em>Burai Type Kai<em>. Superior, optimized versions of the standard Burai models the Front had access to use. Its performance was upgraded, something he noticed as soon as he nudged the throttle open experimentally, and as he moved the machine into his standard launch position there was an improved level of fluidity in the controls.

"Do we really have to follow the Brit, Kururugi-sama?"

Suzaku suppressed a sigh at Nobi's tone. It hadn't changed, not in all the five times he'd asked earlier. "_Yes_, Nobi. Like I told you, he's my friend and very capable." As an afterthought, he added: "He works under my orders. I trust you to keep an eye on him, so please do what he says until this mission is over."

"Y-Yes! Of course! Kururugi-sama, I will not fail you."

"Ready for takeoff?" Lelouch's voice asked over the comlink.

"Affirmative," replied Suzaku. "What about our escape?"

"It should work. Provided your distraction lasts for twenty seconds, the conditions create a seventy percent chance of success. Are... are you sure you want to do this?"

"Don't worry, Lelouch. I still have something I must do – I won't be dying on you any time soon."

"But..."

"I'm going out."

"...Very well. Godspeed, Suzaku."

Suzaku nodded, though the action was lost. "Likewise."

The machine was better than a Sutherland, he noted, after the doors were opened and the landspinners spun into action. Where Sutherlands were stiff things, computerized advances to Glasgow technology, the Burai's modifications leant toward user control. Sutherlands were like vehicles to be driven; Burai were more like extensions to his arms and legs.

He'd known that from theory, but it was only with piloting the upgraded Kai did he manage to _feel_ the difference in style. Kusakabe had done well to obtain it for their mission; without him, Suzaku would never have had the opportunity to use it.

_Without Kusakabe_, another part of him thought, as he eyed the looming monolith of the military convoy just metres away, _they wouldn't have been stuck in this situation_.

No time to think, no time to ponder further as the enemy Sutherlands loomed ahead. The tightly-knit formation approached at intense speeds, though he knew that logically, he was the one moving closer. With relentless streams of assault rifle fire whizzing toward him and a Kai best suited for close quarters combat, he knew where he needed to be.

Certainly, penetrating the formation would be a difficult task. Difficult, but not impossible.

Suzaku gripped both joysticks tighter and thrust them forward. His speed increased, output flickering in the red zone, and the Yggdrasil drive whirred beneath his feet. With skill born only from countless hours of practice he dove down and forward, the Kai following suit, and the _Katen Yaibatou_ was drawn moments before coming point-blank to the Sutherland at the head of the formation.

The Sutherland's pilot tried to avoid the strike, but Suzaku veered around it without warning and the revolving blade sword hacked off an arm. One of the other Sutherlands moved to block the Kai's entry—a valiant effort by a Knightmare taken out by twin Harkens and slung to the side.

The Harkens were withdrawn, and Suzaku swung the sword toward a few more Sutherlands in his way. The chainsaw-like blade, edges glowing red-hot from the speed of vibration, sliced through the stomach of one, forcing the pilot to eject, and managed to melt the rifle of another far too slow in its retreat. Around him, Sutherlands were swapping rifles for close-range tonfa; his entrance past the front ranks meant the military could no longer fire without care.

Suzaku held no such qualms. He swapped the Katen Yaibatou between his hands in a flourishing arc, a move that would have been wasteful were it not for the five Harkens fired in his direction. One of the cords in his right wrist – the Kai's right wrist – snapped as he spun around to take out an ambush from behind, and then his eyes were darting between the monitors and the dash listing the damages sustained. He had to keep track of his limitations—it had been impossible to avoid all the rounds fired at him earlier on.

Even as he elbowed a Sutherland back and stabbed another with the blade, he relished the thrill of adrenaline pulsing through his blood. This was what it was like to live, being pushed to near death in a melee battle of Knightmares, a battle about nothing more than pure skill. It was the same during the Seiryu strikes, his first time out in the field, where he'd put to use the jumble of scattered Knightmare techniques scavenged from anyone who cared to teach him.

Despite all the similarities... this time was different.

Back then, he'd held an advantage in terrain. It didn't allow for withdrawal so the military were forced into a difficult area, unable to eject safely with combat occurring in every direction. Unlike then, the road leading to the Convention Centre did possess enough width to allow the troops to move away, and he could see them doing so in the corners of his screens in an attempt to take him out at range. But this time, Suzaku had a new advantage in the form of a burning present behind his left eye.

He released the crimson flare.

* * *

><p>Victor Calares was not a fool. No fool could have gotten as far as he could where the military was concerned, especially not the military of Britannia. He did not tolerate incompetence beneath him, and all his subordinates knew his wrath should he find disappointment, so it was with confidence that he was able to leave his colonels in charge.<p>

At that point in the battle there wasn't anything that could prevent the Britannian military, with their overwhelming forces, from taking control.

Now he had other issues to deal with, specifically those to do with L. L—that's all he had, a name that couldn't be called a name, a name that was nothing more than an initial. It could have stood for anything, anything at all. The terms of their deal had been defined to strict bounds; in return for silence on the Lady Emmeline's extramarital affairs, he would be given access to the Lake Kawaguchi Convention Centre and nothing on the waterside was to be investigated further.

There was without doubt that last addition was to protect whomever fired the missile. Though the conditions stated there was not to be an investigation, Calares knew he could still investigate the lapse of judgment by the TV station's personnel. The fact that the location of launch was aside it could not have been anything other than sheer coincidence.

He took the journey from the main convoy to the TV vans to finish crafting his cover story. After a period of idle negotiations, among other things, his personal psychiatrist – one Alan Spacer – had called his personal number. Spacer volunteered his services, asking to meet the leader of the terrorist faction directly, and though Calares felt it would be irresponsible to allow a civilian such contact he could not deny the man.

And if he never had a psychiatrist to begin with, there were no other people who could dispute such a claim.

Calares couldn't help the scowl across his face when he reached the vans. Publicity was the last thing a terrorist strike needed, as it did nothing but increase public pressure toward meeting their demands. Somebody in the media had their feet in the military, a fact he was decidedly not pleased upon.

He was about to rap against the door when it slid open, and two personnel hurriedly left the van with recording equipment in hand. Neither noticed Calares's presence. One peek into the van showed it was empty, and...

...and the feed on one of the screens showed him the biggest chaos he'd ever seen.

It was evident that, after Bartley's coup had been put into action, rumours spread like wildfire. Some talked about a large-scale internal investigation, to deter any such events happening again. Some speculated about the sudden standby of several squadrons without warning, affecting hundreds of troops instantaneously, and claimed a link toward the investigation.

Calares felt a shiver creep down his spine as he watched his troops pitting thousands of dollars in Knightmare technology against one another. Where were their orders? What were his colonels doing...?

At some point he'd pulled out his radio, barking orders down the line. There was no response. He was left powerless as he watched the Eleven Knightmare flee, twin antennae waving behind; he couldn't help the realisation that _he _would pay for his subordinates' actions.

Then the empty static over the radio was finaly filled, delivering one single line to confirm the images on-screen:

"_General! The terrorists, sir_—_they escaped!_"

With the abysmal feeling of an unavoidable fate, General Victor Calares knew that he would be under the line of political fire. He would never reclaim his reputation again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Please review? :)


	8. Chapter VII

**A/N:** Thanks to all my readers, especially those who've added this to alerts, favourites, or reviewed. Reviews are love, and without you guys I would probably have gotten bored of this story by now.

To my few readers in Italy, hello~! \(^q^ \)

* * *

><p>When Lelouch hung up, Rivalz never returned to the classroom. He headed for the nearest corner, running down hallways that all looked the same. Were it not for the view of trees giving way to courtyards beyond the windows, the corridors could have gone on forever. He only realized he abandoned his belongings when he was halfway across the building but ignored the urge to return. They didn't matter; he always kept his most precious things on his person, and his textbooks could always be collected later.<p>

He found the room he was looking for, and skidded to a halt at the door. Fingers curled into a fist, he knocked twice. The sound was unexpectedly calm for a person whose chest was smothered in emotion.

"Come in."

Rivalz opened the door and poked his head in, his usual carefree smile plastered on the surface. "Could I borrow Milly Ashford? It's really, _really_ urgent and, um..."

He drifted off stupidly. Before any queries could be made, the telltale blonde blur in the corner of his eye shifted. Workbooks and stationary were relocated without fuss, as Milly packed her bag with uncharacteristic efficiency.

"Sorry, sir," she said. "It looks like the president's influence is needed in organising the pizza this year."

"Yeah," echoed Rivalz, jumping on the excuse while he still had the chance. "Er, that's right."

The professor sighed through rectangular-rimmed glasses. "Very well. I still expect your report by the end of this week, Miss Ashford."

"I wouldn't _dream_ of using this as an excuse to skip," Milly replied, and pulled a surprised Rivalz into the hall.

When the door clicked shut behind them, the two of them were left alone in the hallway. Rivalz, who hadn't registered that such a development would occur when he set about with his plan, simply blinked as she faced him and everything in his brain blanked away.

"What happened?"

"Uh."

He mentally smacked himself. Not the time!

"Please don't tell me you dragged me out here just to say that," she said.

"Hey, I didn't exactly drag _you_..."

Eyeroll. "Wait until you've been in one of _his_ lectures first. Enough of that; what's the emergency?"

"Uh, right. Lelouch says I should tell you 'our biggest fears are realized' or something like that, and he—"

Rivalz had been prepared for dumb surprise, or even exasperated tolerance. Not for Milly Ashford's eyes to lose some of their spark and for the corners of her mouth to twitch into something briefly resembling a frown.

She cut him off. "Where is he now?"

"I don't know," said Rivalz, with a shake of his head. "He said he was going to disappear, though."

"Did he... say anything else?"

"Something about moving Nunally to a secure location, but I don't get why—Milly...? _Milly!_"

The strides once heading for the Student Council Clubhouse paused, and Milly turned around. "Yes?"

"Why is Nunally so important? What's going on?"

"Sorry, I... I can't tell you."

"Of course you can."

"I can't. Just... forget this happened, and go back to class."

"No," said Rivalz. "Lelouch is my friend. If he didn't want me to know, he would've called you. He even told me his plans, and you know he doesn't like telling _anyone_. I'm worried; I want to know what's going on."

A silence stretched between them as Milly puckered her lips, and manicured fingers ran against the edge of her nails. Finally she stared him in the eyes, closing the distance with that gait better suited to the catwalk whilst modelling the latest couture.

"...Alright," she said. "I'll tell you on the way."

—

_**Amor fati  
><strong>_N. Silvutra Mayhem

_**VII.**_

—

Ashford Academy was built soon after Japan's surrender and the subsequent renaming to Area Eleven. Land was cheap, all to lure in Britannian investors to form what would later be known as the Settlement, and to recreate Britannian order without delay.

The level of destruction in the Academy area meant more feasibility in tearing everything apart compared to repairing what already existed. This, in part, along with low pay to a workforce of local Elevens in desperate need of money, was what enabled the creation of a ridiculously spacious floorplan beneath the ground level. It contained the extensive sewer network as well as several storage rooms and the building's main data centre, each sector protected by individual elevators on every side of the school with different passwords that changed at different, various intervals.

Reuben Ashford was a man who took no chances. Not anymore.

Situated in one of the storage rooms on a creaking wooden chair that had seen better days, Rivalz whistled.

"So now you know," said Milly, from her seat atop the table.

"Yeah," said Rivalz. He rested his arms behind his head. "Who would've thought... 'Nunally vi Britannia'?"

The young girl in the wheelchair furrowed closed eyes.

"I'm sorry we couldn't tell you, Rivalz," said Nunally. "But I wish I could say it wasn't because we had no choice."

"Hey, it's cool," said Rivalz. "Don't sweat it, your safety's more important. That said... we got you and both your belongings down here pretty quickly."

A soft smile ghosted Nunally's lips. "Brother planned a possible evacuation about a year after we arrived. He's always prepared."

"I'll say. What if people notice?"

"It's covered," said Milly. "Lelouch and Nunally Lamperouge have returned to the homeland after an emergency summons from their father."

"Wouldn't it be better to erase their records?" said Rivalz.

Milly shook her head. "That's more suspicious. They're not exactly discreet when they're on campus, especially Lelouch, and people will remember. It's all a part of his plan."

"Huh," murmured Rivalz, thinking out loud. "We're probably a part of his plan too."

A gentle hand reached toward him, fingers flitting blindly in the direction of his voice.

"Don't worry, Rivalz," said Nunally. "Lelouch won't do anything to hurt anyone. He always says that regret is the worst thing in a person's life, and I trust him."

"Regret, huh..."

He trailed off, his sigh unintentionally disturbing a layer of dust over some cardboard boxes aside him. Milly slid off the table without warning, then she proceeded to jab an outstretched finger into his face.

"Right!" she said. "Just because our stupid Lulu has left doesn't mean we should be moping around. Every minute you spend in misery is another minute less of your life, and Milly Ashford will not accept anyone acting that way!"

"P-Prez..."

"No buts! We're going to finish arrangements in five minutes, then we're going to resolve this issue the Student Council way. That means festivals and parties for everyone on campus—and because _someone_ isn't here, Rivalz, you're picking up his slack."

Rivalz groaned melodramatically, running his hands down his face as if cleansing himself of his duties. Between the gaps of his fingers, he saw Nunally hide a small smile behind a curtain of hair.

He missed that smile, he wouldn't help but think, once Nunally was gone.

* * *

><p>They had stopped in an area Lelouch didn't recognize, one filled with cheap accommodation in the form of dingy establishments ripped out of an old mobster movie. The Burai Kai was deposited underneath a tarp in rented space, after paying off a man wearing a fluorescent pink shirt. Suzaku and Lelouch separated from the handful of other Japanese recruited to Kusakabe's cause, taking the subway to Shinjuku station.<p>

Other than a quick stop for dinner, the return back to the base passed in uneventful silence—silence filled with the sound of a news report on the incident at Lake Kawaguchi. Breaking news became the news story for the day, and then an extensive series of interviews with friends and family by networks in their fight for ratings.

Neither had to reach the warehouse's doors before asking for access; purple-haired Minami was on guard duty and lowered his arms when seeing them. A grudging nod permitted entry, and the two entered through the side.

Lelouch stopped paying attention to Suzaku's presence upon seeing a blue head of hair.

"Thank you."

When he sat down, Inoue glanced up at him. The pen between her fingers stopped spinning, the incomplete sudoku on her lap ignored. She blinked a few times in surprise, then she shrugged. Her pen was capped with the lid beside a half-eaten box of pizza, then the sudoku folded twice, and both items were placed into her breast pocket.

"Don't thank me," she said. "You were the person who saved them."

"I couldn't have done it alone."

"Maybe not. But it's impressive and everyone here knows it."

"Luck played a large part."

"Luck alone still wouldn't have succeeded. For a man who can influence the Britannian military, you undersell yourself quite a bit."

"That's not true. I just know my limitations."

"And I know mine," she replied. "I couldn't have done what I did without you there. I should be thanking you for the escape route, if anything."

"Harm to people who help me is something I'll never allow."

She stared at him oddly out of the corner of her eye. "I thought so—you're different."

"Different from the _Britannians?_" Lelouch asked.

"No. Just different. I don't prejudice between nations."

"You don't prefer the Japanese?"

"We're not saints, L."

Lelouch raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Everyone's human. Britannians are perfectly capable of being altruistic. The Japanese are equally as capable of selling out their comrades to benefit themselves."

"That's common sense."

"There's a difference between knowing something and experiencing first-hand."

"Misaki!"

Inoue turned around at the voice to see Yoshida heading toward her. He stopped as he caught sight of Lelouch, and his eyes flickered in his direction, but they quickly looked away.

"Your turn," said Yoshida, by way of explanation.

She accepted the shotgun passed across and hefted it in her hands to check its weight. "Okay. Front door?"

"No, Tamaki's got it covered. You'll be running perimeter."

"Got it." Inoue stood up, and gave Lelouch a nod. "See you."

Lelouch nodded back. Then she was gone, weaving across the floor and leaving the building. A sudden movement in his peripheral vision had him see Yoshida taking a slice of pizza. Lelouch shifted courteously when the man sat on the seat Inoue vacated moments before.

The other man caught his gaze, and then steel-grey eyes were glaring even while he chewed on cold mozzarella.

"Stay away from her," said Yoshida abruptly, after Lelouch had looked away. There was no doubt upon whom he referred to.

"She can look after herself," Lelouch replied.

"Not as well as she thinks."

Lelouch, who had been scanning the room, found himself paying less attention to Yoshida's words and more attention to the person near one of the pillars supporting the second storey overhang. Vague memories surfaced in his mind, memories which were blank and full of discrepancies for someone whose pride lay within their intellect, memories that were unacceptable for someone of Lelouch's caliber.

The lack of response didn't faze Yoshida, as the silence was misinterpreted for concentration and the man continued. "I don't care what you want, _L_, but stay the hell away from her if you know what's good for you—Hey!" he exclaimed when Lelouch stood up, "are you listening to me?"

"Yeah," said Lelouch absently, without thinking on his words. "I'll think about it. Have a good evening."

* * *

><p>Suzaku noticed Lelouch's approach almost immediately, as he was often left alone despite his position—or maybe because of it. He cut his train of thought short despite it having cycled through his head countless different ways, knowing that the time he'd spent avoiding the problem no longer accounted for anything at all.<p>

"Suzaku."

"Lelouch," he greeted, in turn. "Or, should I call you L?"

"I don't mind, just beware of eavesdroppers," came the reply.

"We can always move outside where it's more private, if you want."

"No, this is fine. Suzaku—"

Suzaku's insides began to squirm at the tone. This was it; the moment of truth. He would be forced to reveal how he forced Lelouch to action with his Geass, and Lelouch would—

"—is your eye alright?"

—would ask—

"...what?"

"Your left eye. You had your hand over it even when you were boarding the Knightmare."

"Oh, um. It's fine."

"That's good. Could I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead."

"Did I kill Kusakabe?"

The ease in which the query was posed took Suzaku off-guard for a moment, having expected accusations or other things of the sort. Lelouch must have taken the reaction as confusion, as he elaborated. "I know it sounds crazy, but I have a gap in my memory."

"You don't remember?" blurted Suzaku.

"Nothing after the Lt. Col. accused you until he fell to the ground. Do you know what happened?"

"...yeah, I do. It—" his breath hitched. _God_, he'd prepared this in his head how many times already? "It was my fault."

To his surprise, Lelouch's expression turned vaguely understanding. "Don't blame yourself for his allegations. They were unfounded. Unless you knew I possessed a firearm, and somehow kept Kusakabe occupied long enough to fire it, place it in my hands and return back to where you were standing in an instant, you have nothing to worry about."

"No—that's not what I'm talking about. I... I _made_ you shoot him."

"What?"

"My left eye has a power... a power that activates when I'm about to die. I think it makes people want to protect me; the first time it happened, the girl who gave it to me sacrificed her life, and when it affected you, you—you shot him."

It looked as if Lelouch were about to proclaim that such a supernatural thing was impossible. Suzaku knew that _he_ wouldn't have believed it if so much of his presence hadn't affected his life. But finally, after a silence stretching nigh on eternity, Lelouch just lifted a hand to his head and ran it through his hair, hair trimmed oddly short in a style so absolutely _un-_Lelouchlike that it would've been impossible to imagine.

"What a scary power," he said, more to himself than to anyone else. He lifted both hands before him and examined them. "To throw away lives, and to grant the ability to kill without a hint of having done so appearing on a person's conscience."

Suzaku stared at him, at how easily his Geass was accepted. "How can you just believe it exists?"

The question was ignored. "Have you tested its capabilities?"

"No."

"Then you should. If my suspicions are correct, you were the pilot of the Purist Sutherland at Shinjuku."

"How did you...?"

"All the Knightmares rebelled, just as they did at Lake Kawaguchi, and _you_ were the pilot of the Kai." Lelouch shrugged. "I don't really believe it, yet there are no other explanations that work. I wouldn't have blown the lights at that point, consciously."

"When would you have done it?"

"Whenever I needed to use the biggest distraction I could prepare."

Suzaku quieted. _Distraction_.

"...Lelouch?"

"Yes?"

"Did... did you kill my father?"

Another silence fell again. Lelouch wasn't looking at him, staring at the pillar to his side. Suzaku hoped the look in those eyes was only confusion, or reflection back to the time when they were together seven years ago.

"Yes," came the reply, carrying a note of something undecipherable. "I killed Kururugi Genbu."

The world collapsed.

Not confirmation. Never confirmation.

"Suzaku," that voice said again, "do you hate me? For killing your father in cold blood?"

"I hate you."

Lelouch bowed his head, eyes closed. He opened his mouth a few times to say something, but it was always closed without a word. Finally, he settled for a twitch and an ironic half-smile and took a step to walk away.

"...but," said Suzaku. Lelouch halted, and faced him again. "I'm not as naïve as I was before. With my father's death, Japan was freed."

"You call this freedom?" said Lelouch, voice thankfully low despite the acidity in his tone. "This Darwinist ideology that the strong prevail over the weak, that there _is_ a difference in social class between Britannians and Elevens?"

"No. That is the fault of Britannia. There are no ways to avoid sacrifices on the journey to destroy Britannia. So long as nothing of that country remains on the Earth—"

"Will you destroy me, Suzaku?"

"I—"

A sequence of deft flicks, and then the semi-automatic was out of Lelouch's pocket, safety disengaged and barrel pointed directly toward his heart. He held it across the shaft, no move made toward the trigger, and eyes that should have been royal purple locked with Suzaku's green.

"I am Lelouch vi Britannia," he said. "If you truly wish to destroy Britannia, then kill me."

Somehow Suzaku knew that Lelouch's words were pitched as not to carry, even as he tried not to look at the grip positioned within arm's reach. But much like a traffic cone in the midst of a driving test – or during his case, the shrubs in the way of his motorcycling sessions down the Narita mountain range – he couldn't help being drawn toward it the more he tried to avoid it.

He tore his eyes away.

"No, I can't."

"Didn't I kill your father? Don't you want revenge?"

"I gave up trying to find my father's killer when I was ten."

"Even if he's standing before you now?"

"No!" The exclamation drew a few heads spinning toward them, but fortunately enough they turned away again. "Lelouch, I can't. You're my—"

"Pathetic," said Lelouch. "Like this, you will never destroy Britannia."

Suzaku scowled. Lelouch's habit of never making sense and his ability to twist words hadn't been lost from their childhood.

"What are you trying to pull?" Lelouch stayed quiet, and Suzaku spoke again. "Are you trying to change how I think?"

"...No. Not how you think."

"Then stop playing mind games with me!"

"Mind games? I'm not playing anything but the words needed for you to find your goal. Destroying Britannia is an objective. A reason. But it will never become a goal.

"Ask yourself why you hate Britannia, Suzaku. Then you will find your goal."

* * *

><p>The hum of jets and a whirr of wheels resonated about the landing strip, as the modest carrier touched down on reinforced concrete runways. A platoon of officers moved even before it rolled to a stop, each surrounding the aircraft in predetermined position. Dozens of media crews were held back by fences and barricades manned by more uniforms, as they strived to obtain the best footage of the new Viceroy's arrival.<p>

Schneizel el Britannia, flanked by his temporary guard, strode out of the terminal just as the staircase dropped to the tarmac. Two people descended – the first, a man swathed in layers of fine silk and cotton garments, many of which were gilded with a golden sheen; the second, a young woman dressed in a navy military tunic. She would have been inconspicuous, were it not for the eight foot polearm in her hands and shadowed eyes glittering darkly toward all who approached their way.

Camera shutters began to close once the two royals were within reach, penetrated by the occasional flash. Only one from the hundreds of frames would make it into print.

"It's good to see you, brother Atticus," said Schneizel, extending his hand.

Atticus si Britannia accepted it almost with disdain, smile not faltering in the slightest. "And I you, Prime Minister Schneizel. It's... unfortunate you needed to leave your talks with the Euro Universe to act as Viceroy in my place, but I thank you for doing so."

"No need to worry. I had business to attend in the area."

"Ah. When do you depart?"

"Almost immediately." Schneizel blinked and his eyes flickered away instinctively when a too-bright flash appeared without warning. "Is it really necessary to call so much of the media?"

A hand was waved airily in return. "There's nothing wrong with a little publicity."

"Then you haven't heard about the events at Lake Kawaguchi?"

"What do you take me for? Don't fret, no HI-TV crews have been allowed access within five hundred metres of the area."

Schneizel nodded. "Be that as it may, security—"

"Security is fine, brother. I plan to check all the guards at the Palace personally, and I have a Knight of Honour no where near as lenient as I."

At this, he gestured imperceptibly toward the woman's direction. Schneizel inclined his head with earnest.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said. "You would be miss...?"

"Joseine."

An arched brow was all the reaction from the absence of both a surname and title. "Miss Joseine. Atticus has chosen well."

Joseine pursed thin lips, as if suppressing the urge to speak, and nodded in return.

Schneizel turned to face the seventh prince again. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression you would be bringing more people with you."

"No, that's correct," said Atticus. "My advisors are departing via the craft's rear exit."

"Advisors?"

"I've learnt that a single person's ideas can never substitute for many. My advisors are some of the greatest nobles in Britannia. They're successful, and they share common interests with my own."

"I see," said Schneizel. A member of his guard leant in to whisper something, and the second prince straightened. "Then it sounds like you have everything under control, so it seems I must be leaving."

Atticus smiled, one that had difficulty correlating with the rest of his expression. "Then don't let me keep you off-schedule."

"There's no trouble. The EU can wait when family's involved."

"I'm flattered. Best of wishes to your talks, brother."

"Best of wishes to you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Slow chapter, but we just had action and more is coming next time. I hope I haven't lost any of you with the chapter's main revelation... but as said, the circumstances around Genbu's death were different. What do you think?

Please review. :)


End file.
